Seventeen-year-old

he has turned me into a 17-year-old who yearns for his love, attention, gaze and appreciation

i think he has conjured some magic on me where i can't stop thinking and writing about him

i know this blog is turning into a rambling fest of my love-struck mind, but i don't care

i know this post has no poetry or rhyme, but i don't care

i know i sound stupid, irrelevant, incoherent in front of him sometimes, but i don't care

i know all my posts here are excessively soaked with adjectives and metaphors i bestow upon him, but i don't care

all i care about is the smile on his face and sparkle in his eyes when he corrects me

all i care about is how he turns me on with his intelligent comebacks

all i care about is how he cares for me and my wishes

all i care about is how he grounds me when i get carried away

all i care about is the space and independence he gives my gypsy soul

all i care about is how his presence has tamed the hurricane inside me

all i care about is how much i love him and how much he loves me

Sublime

his skin smells like
that cherished old book
whose pages hold the
journey we undertook

his kiss smells like
that morning sunshine
which brings in 
a rush of dopamine

although it feels 
too good to be true
i know deep down 
that our love is sublime

Thank you, 2017

for everything i learned
for several things i unlearned

for twirling me out of my comfort zone
for untwirling the walls of my own

for slapping me with harsh reality
for taming my mercurial insanity

for introducing me to new love
for the deep waters i dove

for all the enriching experiences you gave me
i thank you, 2017

Stardust

that passionate first kiss 

exploded almost a thousand 

stars in her empty sky 

enough to make her swirl and twirl 

in that shower of stardust

That first-ever date

he walked her to the foot of the railway bridge. for them, they were the only people amidst the bustling crowd. the sticky summer heat made him tie his long, thick curly tresses into a pony. he looked all the more cute to her with his chin dimple prominent and few curly strands falling on his cheek.

she was truly happy to have had spent some time with him; it was a date with her teenage crush she had only dreamt of.

she leaned in a bit to plant a kiss on his cheek but immediately retracted her steps. she was so tempted to kiss him on his lips too but for some unknown reason, she didn't. he did tell her upfront that he wanted her to stay for a while. even though she wanted to stay, she waved him bye and started climbing the steps of the bridge.

when she turned around after having reached the top, he was still there, waiting. their eyes met for the one last time; they smiled and blew each other a kiss. and then she left.

several minutes after, as he was sitting a bit dejected near the foot of the bridge staring at the passing crowd, he felt a double tap on his shoulder. he looked up only to have his lips kissed by hers.

perfect! their first-ever date was complete with their first-ever kiss.

no, they are no longer together now. but it's that one date their minds will never erase.

Vintage

"what is the most romantic 

thing he has done for you?"

"he writes lovely and sings beautifully for me" 

"and what is the most romantic 

thing you have done for him?"

"he can say better, but i try to write for him too"

"wow! it sounds so vintage"

*our love is vintage, i thought* 

Hopeless romantic

why do I feel he reads 

these secret pages 

of my mind sometimes

I may not say it aloud

but I feel his presence

leaving a trace once in a while

I think I'm just too 

intoxicated in his love 

to see him everywhere

with each passing day 

he's growing on me 

I'm not sure if he is aware

although I know that the moon 

of my earth won't go anywhere 

but once broken, usually fragile

my little heart is always scared

bad poetry, poor rhymes, I've become 

a hopeless romantic, please bear