Avinash Nair

There, under the stuttering street light,
She stands,
Tucking away those loose strands
Of her hair, filling the night
...

Unseen, unheeded strands of existence,
Unheard is their Sound of Silence,
Dark faces smeared with dirt,
With traces of fear and hurt.
...

When time passes as time does,
Without you noticing it passing by,
A helpless senselessness creeps in you
That becomes impossible to hide.
...

I hold her close to me,
So close, so near,
That we cease to be
Two different entities.
...

For love is, that fleeting feeling
Of warmth in the coldest of nights.
It is the gradual healing
Of the pain in your twilights.
...

Thin, unnoticed she moves,
Amidst the crowd
Which promptly disapproves
Her or at least the shroud
...

Again, he embarks on this journey,
A journey without destination
With a slight change;
This time, it is alone
...

With our fingers entwined in deep embrace
We stare out, away to some different space
The passion unspent is heightened here,
But then there is this guilt with a tinge of fear
...

Suddenly he has grown old,
His once proud gaze
And forehead bold
Seem tired and cold,
...

What is it that you think, with your

Eyes fixated somewhere in between
...

Those smiles of sadness
And tears of happiness,
Whispers of care
And shouts of despair,
...

“Alone” she said, “I wait”
And I could actually relate
Her to a bird with broken wings,
Caged to a word with broken hope
...

To my dearest,
I can wait for you in your absence,
I can hear you out in your silence.
I can define your sadness,
...

The subtle loneliness that hath,
Built its walls were crumbling,
As I ventured into that path
Of needs and belonging.
...

I have been on this lane before,
I have seen the disdain and more,
I have known this dark alley
These dark labyrinths,
...

What is the strange sadness that dwells in me?
Which wakes, sleeps, twirls and swells in me.
Is it the sadness of satisfaction?
Or is it because of dissatisfaction?
...

Remember to forget,
Forget the pains from your past,
They say, as they always do,
And if may you dare
...

When I die,
Bury me in those pages,
Which failed to become
My identity, my stages.
...

If only words were capable enough!
To articulate how I felt,
The delicate heaviness that dwelt
In the crevice of my heart,
...

Let's be lost in time,
For this is the best of the times
To be lost in.
Leave out a part of us back here,
...