under the monsoon sun

while soaking up the smell of all books i bought last winter,

i mused on the question of scrolling trying to replace the sound of flipping pages.
biting on bitter cocoa easy on the pocketbook,
on days of introspection swiveling in my chair,
dawns reflections edified me on laws of reality,
making me fall into reveries on the fluttering grass.

i despise roses,
only to effortlessly discover their foxily alluring thorns,
beguiling a part of me into loving them.
coming to terms with the likelihood of not wanting our lives interwoven.
having this penchant for clicking pictures,
on every level in a parallel universe,
I'd unquestionably don the finest coat of an impassioned docent.

these pangs and aches irk me,
until the pain disperses amid the monsoon breeze,
like mist.
I smile reckoning it isn't momentous in the grand scheme of articles.
granting time for those massive psychological scars to heal,
piecing the jigsaw together.
                                              - isha

dazed dots

we welcomed a lackluster summer,
wanting sights and sounds,
startled by a paradigm of bits and pieces,
humans trying to get stronger in leaps and bounds.
myriads of thoughts danced in my head ceaselessly,
trying not to fall asleep when it rained,
sipping piping hot coffee,
ruminating on the animals chained.

the guitar piling up dust in the drawing room was strummed every morning.
for the first time in months, the patio wasn't empty.
park never looked so untrodden.
love breathed in abundance.

we allowed our minds to saunter.
minds seized by cellphones.

i grew accustomed to smiling at tetchy Mrs. D'Souza across the hallway,
tirelessly searching for her lost gemstones.
no end to my family's chaotic idiocy,
wishing we were hallucinating,
eardrums craved to tether this lunacy.
yet,
love did breathe in abundance

                         - Isha 

                         

luna

she gazed at the orchestrated constellations.

but every single time the moon rose and hovered over her head,

she was struck by it.

the sun cleared the way for the moon.

slowly.

it was more than watching the rays of light lose their brightness.

opening doors for things that were left unsaid.

the clouds hid the moon every time she felt powerless.

as if people wouldn't admire her and take oaths of their love.

the moon is filled with gratitude for the tremendous love that she's showered with.

a love that seldom gets a chance to survive.

the one that makes her look picturesque every night.

so altruistic that she dazzles like a diamond.

the luminous glow of the celestite in her hand mumbled,

i won't let a sole fragment scar you. 
                                                          - Isha

hues of crepuscule

pale lips scintillating.

like the tints, tones and shades of dusk.

euphonious breaths watered by glances unseen,

those were the hues of our blether,

did not escape the sky's notice clean,

fathoming the value of every second spent together.

umbrella of themes leading to earnest conversations between theatrical soulmates,

tales of concealed passions,

when no promises were being constructed.

inconstant silence formed ethereal walls.

the walls that feel like home; unobstructed. 

we belong to this oasis of insanity.

to never crossing the threshold of this zone.

to every vivid chasm sketched by us.

to painting secrets having an imperfect undertone. - Isha