Slinging scribbles

Remember me. Remember to remember me. Every time your reflection creates a beam, Remember me... A gratifying face,amidst changing faces, hymning words, pauses and stares; everywhere. Serene presence,on lazy mornings,night cycles, reveries; everywhere. Seen glimpses,on dripping atoms, whispering winds, glistening rays; everywhere. But it was only among deep breaths, pulsating beats; within me when I meant everywhere. But, a schmooze on a dark day, A blunder of owning the possession, The burning desire to grab an occasion; Left only with separation... Due to nothing but a terrible showcase of bond and affection. Myriads of memories, bondage of aspirations Ripped apart in phony silence and stark resiliency. Of remembrances and only remembrances, As mere mirrors to heart but broken glass of mirrors...And a past. Remember me. Remember to remember me, Every time  your reflection creates a beam, For it will bear a colour, a shade of me!

Obsessed and obstinate, holy as a cow, meek as a mouse, surrendered like a coward, mocked by a bitch; rather like a bitch! Albeit dreams imitate a lion, like shores beyond those horizons; but say, U stopped and might as well will stop me. If only for a while? How ruthless, a stop. How crude a thought, But, say no importance. Still an aftermath? Look, look, look, time play! Seems the seventh knot never knitted, shall it matter, No? Like those six, like the seventh!

  It’s a prayer; an order if thou feel so, You are the only thing that me considers mine, After all the refuted chances, That passed away like they weren’t mine. Honest I was, if that’s what thou ask my conscience, Passionate I was, if that what you need to know, Obsessed and simple I was… If that’s what my flaw was. ‘O Love’, I shall call thee names, ‘O Love’, you betrayed me and had fun on my name, ‘O Love’, laugh, leave if that’s what is left of my name. Blame you, me knows its easy, Isnt it the same for you? I dare ‘propose’, Could you not look after me? You are cruel; shall I not ask you? Do you not mock at my helplessness? Photo courtesy: Rosanna Abrachan   The need makes me weak, Limbs move at a snail’s speed Ask me, I shout silently Feel, touch, caress, a cry faints while delivering the inner voice Are you pretentious or am I to blame? Am I asking too much or it isn’t worthy of this fame? A heart remains unsati...