A promise

Once I had made a promise to myself
Not to make you alive in my words again
Burying all the letters deep down inside
The exquisite structures that spelt your name

I’ve also tired to raze down every wall since then
Wherever there hangs a painting of you
Inside the moist remnants of my heart
And of visions that could never come true

Deliberately, I allowed time’s droplets to settle down
All over the delicate glasses around your face
That I had protected from every tumult and storm,
To obscure even the faintest dawn of your gaze

But stealthily during unseen moments I had broken
Some rickety fragments of your memories
And clasped them in between the warmth of my palms
To simmer myself during cold winter breeze

I know that by doing so I’ve betrayed my conscience
And exposed myself to the torrent of unrests
But I also know that my metaphors are meaningless
Unless emanating from the divinity of your chests

The promise that I made has been broken today
When my words have granted you life yet again
Falling onto the empty pages through my eyes
Are those beautiful letters that still spell your name

From the ink of my love

                                                 
Beneath the shadows of intertwined branches
Weaving and erasing countless dreams
As I look up at the dark winter sky
That was scarlet just some hours ago
I wonder that you also must have changed
Sneaking quietly out of the closet of my eyes
To open deserts where the golden sands
Might have molded you into an enviable reality

Sometimes during the odyssey of your imagination
I stumble into the garden of your breaths
Where each petal laden with hanging fragrance
Again gives me a million wings to fly with

When I wake up to the flutter of leaves
I see the hue of moonlight percolating into me
And into the empty contours of traipsing breeze
Giving me the abundance of an ink which will
Grant immortality to my words and love for you

For there will come a time when there shall be no life in me
And then you should know what I write today
On the blank slates of some abstract emotions
 Binding them carefully with the hymn in my heart
That would be visible only through the magic of your eyes

 The soft pebbles that I throw into this lake
Are hopes, that somehow my crescendo, with these ripples
Will reach your soul as a smooth whisper
And you will also know that when you breathe
Someone else also is alive through them.