Call him the moon,


I loved him not

For the light he threw,

So gracefully;

But for I knew,

Of the debris,

Lying beneath

The supple ivory rays.



Sing me a song,

Write me some prose;

Just prove me

That it’s not wrong,

To forgive you forth;

Assure me,

That all the tears,

Weren’t all for naught;

Just show me,

It was a friendship,

Worth fighting for…

Let’s put down,

the pretenses;


tell me

you are sorry,

like you mean it;

Missing you 

is like living,

in an islet;


– but this time,

you own the planks,

you hold the strings,

you have the nails,


fix the bridge. 


Because my cross is mine own to bear…

Though running into your arms
And losing myself in your warmth
Melts away the frosts,
The moment you walk away
The spikes start caving in.
Because the cold is within me
And no heat from without
Can burn it but me.


Do I scream out and ask how it is fair?
Do I collapse down and beg for one more chance?
Do I steel up and accept it?
As if it never mattered.
As if it didn’t fill my empty soul.
And keep walking in an assumed steadiness
When my insides are bleeding
And breathing takes all my might.


If it hurts you,
As half as it hurts me,
You wouldn’t walk away.

If it stings you,
Just as it stings me,
But you keep walking away,

You are neither a hero, nor a saint,
Who sacrificed for the good.

But a mere coward,
Who fears the beat of his own heart.


You are like that least favorite song of mine, which sneaked in to my playlist without my consent; which I listened to only because I was too occupied in my own thoughts to skip.

With time, I began swaying to your beat and embracing your words.

With time, I learnt the depth behind your lyrics, the tenderness behind your music.

With time, I began to search for you among a bunch of songs that I believed I couldn’t live without.

With time, you began to define me and speak for me.

With time, you became more than just a song to me.