The Breeze this winter feels a bit drier, squirting through the window sill making the hazy glass damp against the all aged walls of my abode, it calls me with the deep notes reciting "you" and "us", which are audible merely to my ears and I being the same lethargic soul, hear that heartbreaking resonance echoing deep within the circumference of my head.
Like a feuillemort leaf tired of putting on the weight of being happy green covers itself with deep scars gifted to her by age, I try to suppress my tears behind this weather of winter, dripping few drops when falling from the edges of pine when kisses the earth beneath them they out in all their might as if this was the only choice their heart had ever made, the choice of meeting the one which completed them
Looking at the meeting I ask just one question to the air around me, when will the time come that I will caress those pink edges of lips with mine, when will I cover them with the few this season has gifted me with?
This season keeps me reminding of the linking we have in between, through the old school pages of my rusted diary, I try to give back the time we spent together in each other's company as one single soul with a smile on your face and a blushing red hue on mine.
I had been a skull nestling bees instead of butterflies through this long but not yet lengthy voyage of mine around the sun, managing to heist hues from the defunct flowers I could only paint me through the stars on a moonless night with my miseries and grieves, but then one fine day those stars around moon decided to embellish my torpid story and sent the yellowest star to put light upon my stygian portrayal, that star was you, like the drops of the first rain quenching the thirst of wilted leaves you made me breathe, maybe a little more through the fog.
Love was never my genre until and unless my pen flowed for you, but still, I could never put you in frame with even the best of my metaphors; I often sat back with my new dairy and that old head but now those bees no more stayed, rather, there were harlequin butterfly wings flitting around in that, not so grey, gray matter, my flair to paint someone this vividly was new for me even.
You are the one who made me feel gorgeous of who I am, you made me look upon myself with a totally new set of eyes, you made me paint my stygian soma with vivid hues of love, I don't think that I would ever be able to pay you back the affection your heart holds for me anyway possible, all I could do is paint my poems with the hues of your soul and make them look a bit more beautiful.
Ashwii, on this special day of yours I wish you a year as special and elegant as you are, May the clouds of despair never rain over you and the ray of sunshine happiness wake you up each morning, May the Moon always guide you through the dark and you always stay smiling and jolly, Rest I'll try my best that I don't annoy you this year, maybe!
//Even if I ask the best of my words to sum up and paint you down, I would still not be able to paint the best out of you cause the soma you have is the one which is purer than the purest essence of nature and the brightest part of that vault above this earth//
and as my shivering hands tried summoning up letters to put you in the frame, it was yet another time for the sun to bid me goodbye.
with the setting ray of that colossus amber orb, the Abendrot kaross started pulling his hand out to embrace the clouds around, little by little the dern started wrapping dazzle over the horizon as the dusk arrives.
All were seeking for their abode but for my soul, it was just another day without that insouciant voice, which echoed in my grey matter on loops, the voice which was a catharsis to my messy nerves.
Maybe my abode stayed with you, which evaporated as you went, and the reason why the skies never held me but those tears did, which brought about deluge embedding me like a dolorous heart quaffing wine.
I've Always tried romanticising Rains, or I should rather say tears, the tears which fall down when those vast heavens cry, cry out their miseries or behind a forlon verse that couldn't be a part of someone's musing, but inspite being in despair they leave you filled with ecstasy.
The Way those petite drops fall from the soused clouds embracing caelum within their arms, and consoling them in their grief, making even the elfin dance. The Smell Flourishing in rivulets down the claggy streets had even me down in gleam of nepenthe and when you entered as a ray of sunshine, it made iridescent spark, spark with all it's scintilla somewhere between my soul and my heart.
If Someone will call me as a Colleen squelching in the drops of those tears of heavens then I would call you as the house which will shelter me. The warmth your arms behold makes my heart melt like the snow melts when kept above a palm, slowly gradually but whole, going oblivion about it's shape and surroundings.
My Miseries are now ephemeral cause they've started loving my devils.
//if love was a person it would have resembled you//
The river I mention here is the mighty Brahmaputra .
I inhale .. And stare in awe at the endless stretch Of this mighty river that my orbs behold And I am humbled by her exterior calm For I am sure .. She too carries eddies of torment deep within Breaching banks as she carves a new course But she comes together so beautifully As she flows after in full spate Setting aside all the silt and rubble That became a part of her journies Turning into a pellucid expanse of halycon panorama And as her soul touches mine I realise .. My life is so much like hers.... /Always coming together after tearing apart/