some tales are fickle...some are not

i once heard that
when you like someone
it's like breathing fresh air
and every glance of her face
is a new day full of hope

sounds familiar

up, under, left and right

everywhere i go
and everywhere i look
there are traces of you
in the music i hear
in the pictures i draw
in those empty rooms
if there is none
my mind would convince myself
that there is...
and all i could do
is concur and believe
even though sometimes
i'd try so hard to
not think of you
or at least not as much
as i am used to...
yet i still want to feel
how i always feel...
embraced, surrounded by you
or at least by those traces
that i grew accustomed to...
because you are everywhere
that's what i want
and don't want
to believe...

you are everywhere

good night,
dear up, under, left and right

thus

your facet is my favourite picture and your voice is my favourite song

a hundred at a time

i would peel the skin of apples for you
and oranges and even limes
i would keep a piggy bank to buy you presents
with each and every dime
i would read to you your favourite books
stories, poems and rhymes
and i would write you love notes and letters
a hundred at a time

if you let me...

stifled and slow

there she was
and i was there
there she was
with all her glare

who would have thought
how cumbersome curiosity can be
and how it escalates like tides in the sea
till i became stifled and slow
till the only time i ever stopped
being curious of her was never ago

what might of been lost was found but not kept

the day is coming in
this pouring rain is paradise
you couldn't ask for anything better
and so they say

in the meantime

if that time comes
and it feels special...
i bet it wont be me
it would be you