Confessions from a poet's heart

There are situations, days even,

where someone tells me that I’ve changed,

in a better way, probably, in a worse;

changed from the person I was ten years back, from five months back and maybe even yesterday...

What do you wish for when the clock strikes 11:11?

Countless nights have gone where I had only you for company. On the couch, in the dim glow of the moonlight streaming in, staring out at the ceaseless activities on the road, when I listen to you, I feel peace.

Rainy days that end with the sunshine sprawling on my floor, eyelashes that fall on my wrist and my wishes on them, feeling lighter, but emptier...

I thought I'd spare you the trouble

of being beside me on a day like that,

where my real self is probably miles away,

even she choosing to walk away for a bit.

Everything seems to be an infinite deal of everything and nothing.

In the moments just before you call, I think of all the things I want to say to you and even more so, of the ones I probably won't.

I know how it feels when you're feet-deep, sitting at the edge of the ocean, but it's empty inside you.

There has to be something special about a person with whom you had witnessed all possible seasons together, right?

If I could be anything else for a day, I'd like to be the sun which lights up someone else's sky.