The Boy Who Cried Love
Moments pure wash up my gate, My eyes hold rivers of faint memories That pour out one by one, Like a touch of a girl in my hand – Soft and not from this world. Of whispers sent through the wind When I was too
Moments pure wash up my gate, My eyes hold rivers of faint memories That pour out one by one, Like a touch of a girl in my hand – Soft and not from this world. Of whispers sent through the wind When I was too
City lights, You have drowned all my stars! Can I hate you more for Painting over my canvas? The quiet time of the lovers, Who used to prod for answers in the vast Had a world to explore; You have smeared it with your din.
Do you go to bed to eat your day? To make your misery go away? Or because your eyelids fall Whenever you try to stay awake? Are you waiting for a point in time To snooze yourself till you reach there? But all the unpleasantness
You are thinking about my world In your world, I am a dream You can wipe out With a mere thought Spent on someone else. I will be gone in your momentary disregard For the better part of the day, But it doesn’t work that
I have four ways to go, When I pick one, I find another four Down the road When I am on one, I think about the other three I left behind. What if one of them Held a different face? That would have taken me