I daydreamed my way to the sea
                                                             ­   and made a sandcastle my home.

it's too late to fret
about decisions made
and ties cut, past tense.
it's hard to see it
without the glaring minutiae
of my demise.
I'm scanning the walls
for a change of subject-
Polaroids and butterfly carcasses,
city skyline sketches
and old cigarette advertisements
in gilt gold frames;
satisfy yourself.

my mind is saturated
with degenerate cogitation-
a stew of pantheons
and painstaking nihilism.
my bones are brittle
and begging to break
and my eyes are growing heavy,
with the weight of it all.

'There is a lost child
within you, alive always"
she says, getting thoughtful.
Those smiling innocent eyes
that trapped him so easily
seize him all over again,
as if to make sure-
"Isn't he so naive?"
Isn't there an irony in her words?

Betrayal by one's  beloved
is what a lost child,
could expect, when grown up
he theorises, without any basis.

He stood there, lost in the crowd
some nightmares bring back those moments;
he could vividly remember,
tears dried up in his eyes,
still he didn't cry out  aloud.
(When the object of affection
is deeply entrenched in psyche
child has no fear.No sense of loss
The young woman's eyes were kind
she smelled really nice, gentle words
more than a lost child deserves)

One loosees loves, sometimes  its inevitable
and when love seeks one and rewards
how would you account for  that?

He had felt this in his bones,
it's time for this love to part ways,
it's painful, but  the moment awaits there
he has to meet it anyway

Looking in to her eyes
where innocence no more could hide
he whispered"You sweet cheat
its time to leave, fly up to the sky
that misses you,
being wild is your creed
I won't cry, I promise"