Yearning for a touch,
a sweet kiss on the forehead.
For deeply engrossed entangled fingers,
kiss of warm breath,
for silences of sounds.
Longing for a whisper, a smile or just a sign.
But for now and the empty silences,
theres is just a whimper and a long wait.


(to Sumbul and Yasser...)

Rising alone, in a lonely morning of a crowded world.
Who is with who? It don't matter any more.
I am with who i chose to be with. Me.
She is all I've got.
I am not being tough on myself. Time is.
Uncreased, unspoilt, the crisp white sheet beside, lies gaping at me.
I have no answers and I've stopped asking questions.
Sleeping in a bed that forever feels cold.
Living in a world that forever feels numb.
Angry with myself but anger betrays me.
Anger coagulated, refuses to surge through my veins.
Trying hard but I feel I've never tried enough.
Its good to love yourself.
But the day you are left with your reflections, your shadows, your echoes and just that,
you know that solipsism is a punishment.
I laugh.
After all love and hate are the two sides of the same coin.