ashq The Dove of pristine eyes, Knows no form of lies, Dews of love united Left shore- Delighted. Lacrimones* worked extra too much Flow of feel gave extra too grudge Rain drops are celestial How her eyes had it's custody OH! That drop! Why it left it's adobe. Those beautiful eyes are beyond above The trail on her cheeks it left, Left behind epics of pain. The heartfelt feelings It could drain, I wish I were the sea Which embraces the rivers And drops to end the suffering train. *Lacrimones glands
A day dreaming Date: Saturday 2011 Venue: Interview Hall, Fiber2 fashion’s Office I was waiting for my turn for the Interview. Attendant shouted “Number 9” Ohh! That’s me. I entered the room for P.I session. I saw a beautiful girl of about my age waiting for me, She was fair and looked cute. Shuru wore corporate suit yet looked a diva. For the first five seconds I was gathering my heart beats that were rolling all over the ground I don’t know why but she reminded me of someone. Someone about whom I still feel guilty. It was when I was in class fifth, yeap!! I have also been in class fifth guys but i bet you, my class fifth was a bit different from yours. First day in a new school. Actually papa got a new posting so we had to switch. It was all fun there but funnier here. Our family has got plenty of friends there on the very first day. Sardar uncle, Mahima aunty, Unki Beti Ilu...She was cute. But my biggest fear was waiting for me. ...
Into the classroom Smiles all around, 3rd row, 2nd position. She was sitting beside a blonde figure, no matter whom she accompanies, she is the Goddess`s daughter. I was sitting 1st row corner, just parallel to her. Very rarely I could catch her glimpse. I wonder I could be her... PENCIL. Her pencil that she might be using it as a small stick to tap on her fist full of drizzled sweating, if I would be her pencil she might have used me as her part time comb to adjust her flock of hair hanging loosely from the corner of her ears, if I would be her pencil, she would use me to press the petals of her lips while she`ll be filled with nostalgia. At times she`ll lick the pencil (me)when she`ll get deeper in her thoughts without having slightest notice of my existance in her beautiful hands. I could taste her lips, the beautiful rose-petals like, pinkish and soft, as if some new kind of flavor is there. Thanks to God to show such shef like talent by creating a new taste her lips, her ...
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