Just makes sense...

Whisper wishes to every butterfly I see,

And reach out for your hand walking down the street,

And dip my marie mindlessly in your tea,

And not sleep till you text me ‘Reached J‘,

Because that makes sense to me.

And listen to ‘A Thousand years’ on repeat,

And relive each of your blink and heartbeat,

And memorize all the sweet things you say to me,

And make you listen to all the songs beautiful and deep,

Because that makes sense to me.

And whistle when you look suave and neat,

And woo when you bring me white lilies,

And let you hold the door for me,

And not judge when you steal my ice-cream,

Because that makes sense to me.

And shop endlessly online for ‘us’ regularly,

And cancel it all the moment you make me angry,

And weave dreams and colorful big fantasies,

And make you a part of it, in every detail subtly,

Because that makes sense to me.

:)..

Unheard Notes.

Like the flutter of eye lashes beneath the spects dark,

Like the gulp of words on the rustle of sleeves not so far-apart.

Like the resistance of the dry leaves under the heels,

Like the quite ripples on a surface otherwise serene,

Like the clack of heels on a dance floor of tango,

Like the whoosh of the skirt in a full circle ‘giro’.

Like the truumm of water filling an empty glass.

Like the nudge and poke into a dreamy reality, a ‘dream’ at last.

Like the hushed slithering of a sneaking Doubtsnake,

Like the boastful voice in a dumb blind-eye’s way,

Like the screech of a blinding light, a (sudden) deafening sound,

Like the crumble of walls and roofs everything above or below the ground,

Like the shatter of crockery one by one or altogether it could be,

Like the thunder of words from a mouth that just couldn’t speak,

Like the klunk of knives rushing through the blood,

Like the storming footstep of a little sweet dove.

Like the hustle of sheets and pillow and hair and unattended tears,

Like the audacious silence of yet another night reliving all fear,

Like the incoherent clincking of everything unbroken everywhere,

Like the smash of a soul squishing under something heavy and itself scared.

Like the shush of the receding waves,

Like the hollow echoes in shells of memories vain,

Like the chilly embrace of nothingness,

Like the warm hug of acceptance.

Like the wooh of winds from a window ajar,

Like the clackety-clack of train switching paths,

Like the tremble of steps a little too shaky and uncertain,

Like the swoosh of tires on a street fresh after rain,

Like the ballerina, white lily, coming back into sight,

Like the chink that remains allowing a passage to light,

Like the ta-faak of red as the carpet is laid,

Like the rising crescendo as the mark is made.


:)