i was reading a something in a book when this thought occured. “is love selective?” i mean, can you imply onto oneself to love someone? so i sent at sms to this friend of mine, with just the above quote, and she replied “if you want it to be…”, to which i replied, “what if, in the need of the hour you want it to be, then you try and try, but in every growing minute you feel that you actually are walking away?”

i haven’t heard back from her since then.


its just a heart, not a piece of rock,
why is it troubled so?

it’s not unknown, not a stranger.
i’ve actually known it since forever, haven’t i?

sitting here, dimming the lamp on lonliness,
advising to oneself that,
its just a heart, not a piece of rock!

departures and dreams,
who leaves, is the untrustworthy

whoever cries, wins,
because it’s just a heart, not a dream you dreamt last night

poets and artists, over years, try to convulge to only this emotion
that its just a heart, not a verse or mona lisa, yet to be tainted!