heartbomb.xx

Dear Lover,
Dear lover, do you feel my love, beating -
beating through my heart?

Tender kisses, sweet desire, dear lover,
follow your heart,

Dear lover, lost in your eyes, forgotten -
forgotten my broken past

I hear your voice, a harmonious symphony
You're an addiction, an obsession, you are my dear lover.

Waiting.
As I sit here in this cold and lonely room, I watch the pages of my notebook flicker to the rhythm of the gust of wind that enters through the window. The blank pages stare at me, expecting, waiting to be spoilt with the chilly ink of my pen. But I cannot write for I am out of words, no longer am I able to express the bitterness and hurt inside me using the plain letters of the alphabet. It was my blood and tears which wrote those letters to you. Now I am hollow and alone. My soul and body dried like a rose in red deserts of mars. The emptiness of these pages is nothing but a reflection of my mind which roams in the underworld, blinded by your love. The sound of the flickering pages are like drums beating hard in my ears, a burden that clouds my emotions. I wish I could bleed those words like before, I wish I could let out these feelings of hurt and pain that you caused me. I can hear nothing but the rain hitting the ground outside, in my solitude I reminisce about the way you made me feel only to want to hate myself even more. I feel like a lost soul with nothing to hold onto, no barriers, no protection from the hostility that surrounds me. Now I have to go. Go on forever in the darkness of this world where the sky is gray and the no one prays. Now I must leave on this last journey which leads me to my doom. My soul and mind are now as dark as shadows but my heart still feels you and I still feel that pain and suffering of the past. Now I must go into the shadows. I sit here in my lonely, cold room waiting for you to return, just waiting, waiting, waiting. I know that the remainder of my life will be spent just waiting yet still I expect your return. I know that our fairy tale is nothing but history, but your memories will haunt me for eternity.

(continuous prose written by Mandeep and I)

Aankhein Tumhari

aapkay ishq mein dhoob kai
humari zindagi dhoob gayi
tanhayee main hum kho gayay
ye mohabbat adhuri ray gayi

aapke aankhon mein dekh kar
humne dekhli duniya saari
sitaare bhi lagte pheeke sai
bas chahiye toh ek nazarr aapki

jeetein hai hum aapke liye
rahe ya na rahe duniya baaqi
chahte hai hum aapko sadaa
rahe ya na rahe, jaan humari.

(Urdu poem written by myself and a friend - Mandeep)

A loss of all things loved and all things lost loved. Love but within limits, love but do not devote. Love but hate, dispose of all emotions.

You are born into this world alone, you remain alone and you die alone: not the words of a pessimist, but those of a genius. When you love, you expect. When you expect, everything crumbles away until there's nothing left but your heart and it hurts when that crumbles.

Wishing is no use, wishing means hoping, hoping leads to disappointment. You hope for the best, you get the worst. You wish for a miracle, you get death - be it death of love, life or soul. Be wise and true, be alone and conquer the world single handed.

A hysterical paradox of society, a mockery.

She was.
Cornered by confusion, hate, anger. She is a soul incomplete and smacked by frustration. She is a soul lost, tainted, bewildered. Anxiety and betrayal thrust upon her, treating her like an unwanted piece of flesh, thrown out into a rubbish bin for the hounds to chew on. She is not a life, but a gloomy death which surrounds the very meaning of passion. She was once quaint and now she is nothing but unwanted, terrorised by love, sacrifice, compromise and forced to choose between two rights. She is lost. A soul lost.

Her aura floated past me and it seemed as if I'd known her forever. It seemed as if her soul had been attached to mine for an eternity, yet parted in a split second. She was love, laughter, happiness but she didn't know it. She was mine, my property; mine to play with, break and abuse, mine to admire. But she left, her aura was no longer swaying to the rhythm of my heartbeat, but to the passing train that went by but disappeared in the distance leaving only traces of smoke, a basket of pollution. She was trust, but broke herself, the trust that was a vital link in the chain of communication between us. Her voice rings in my ears, a singing voice so mellow which demands nothing but tears from my tear-filled eyes. I anticipate nothing but loneliness after her departure, but consequently a life filled with an adequate amount of joy to live the remainder of life to its fullest.

She was the water that bathed me with pride, that substantiated her ego. She was the root of our unity, but additionally the destruction of those very roots. She was the death of us, yet she haunts my mind, my heart and my soul.