I piled up my memories,
Both old and new;
Bitter and sweet
To make an Everest.
...
Yesterday, today and the tomorrow,
I need to borrow,
mourn a dying sun
soaked in the dew of sorrow.
...
She hears you sigh
through her eyes,
peeping at you
over a book
...
It hasn't rained here, yet.
I long to hear those
early lone drops patter on the
earth dusting off
...
I belong to me,
Not to you or to anyone else in the world;
Not to the beguiling hope,
Not to the everlasting despair;
...
I tried.
Believe me I did,
Only I failed miserably.
Nevertheless I tried
...
Lid the light,
curl up on the sheet
and breathe the night.
Grab a pillow,
...
I posed a question to you;
my overtures implied.
Hope patched with anxiety,
conviction thread-bare
...
Blood stain on your hands!
How dirty can you get with
Puddle as mirror?
...