Nothing beautiful

If you dont remember the beauty in me,
And I dont remember the beauty in you-
When the day is long gone,
And all is done and dusted -
We realize in our lonesome space-
That we created nothing beautiful.
If for days you had lain beside each other,
To wake up every morning together-
When everything has fallen through
And you dont reach out in memory-
Then all the time we spent,
Were nothing but wasted moments.
Lust is just,
When no-one has to adjust.
But when one is called to commiserate -
That alone obviates the penultimate.
Umbra-d dreams and Umbrella-d deeds -
All cascade into one eventuality -
That you and I created nothing beautiful.
When the voiceless asked you to stay,
You heard the call of the wild
To stray.
To you, home would be the Mamma's love-
Open your eyes, love -
Her kiss is but a bite.
When the hearth has no heart -
How can life sustain?
 At the end of the day,
When the tired body finds solace
In his own lair -
Instead of the home we thought we created,
Then who's the liar?

Black Rose

Clad in noir,
From head to toe,
She stood amidst the sea of color,
A black rose.
Only her eyes shone out,
Black pearls shining bright
In the green orbs -
En-fringed by silk.
Her habit, her halo-
Made her luminescent,
Miles ahead of the lesser mortals-
Who stood by her side.
She looked around the compartment,
At her fellow metro travelers-
Mostly 'screened' out and oblivious,
To each other.
Apathy ran amok-
That was the spirit that resounded-
As it echoed across the bogey.
All of us were embroiled in it,
A victim and a perpetrator-
At once.
Yet as she stood tall,
Her head back held in pride-
Her eyes showed none of the futility,
That lay askew around.
It was then when our eyes met,
Perchance - and we knew-
That she and I were made of the same mold.
Thrusted into separate realities-
Entrusted into the folds of our
Own religion and socio-politics.
Yet the soul,
Seemed to know-
From deep within,
The connect despite the disconnect-B
We were our own alter egos.

Wildfire

What had started off as a wildfire,
Soon hit a dry run.
A dry spell
Of cast-aways meanders.
Hitting the dead-end,
Going back to the
Point Of No Return.
Emblazoned across each minds-
The fiery memories
Of yesterdays.
All smoke, dust and ashes now -
History created and sustained.
Pointless this life for each ,
Yet to find a meaning remains a goal.
Little did either know,
That Fate had an Ugly Date in mind-
The Judgment Day for all to hear-
And bear as that albatross around
Scrawny necks.
Voiceless march on,
Defenseless to the absoluteness -
The sheer fatigue of life,
Wears them out.
To live is now a rhetoric.