Idea

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An Idea, An Image, An Interpretation

I Close My Vision, And Get A Vision.

A Ruddy Shade, And A Clear Sheet,

Drawing Thoughts To Fast Meet.

To Escape The Balderdash Of It;

To Create A Discrete Fit.

To Enhance, To Shape, To Exactitude,

And Evince The Idea’s Aptitude.

From The Murk Of Muzzy Myriad Past,

To The Mystique, Till The Last.

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image

deliberate product of unskinned truth

a bounty of interpretations

long cherished passions

and long hidden desires

bubbling colours of  serene sea

blues and violets in her bag

of rocked past and breezy images

growth of unreliable potent

in the shabby grey lap

keenly watching the battle

of two similar blood

whimpering hopeful tears

 

the delusion of being loved

My heart pampers her. It knows, how she feels! But I am drawn by my love. I am unable to restrict it.

She has told me often, that I need not be so formal with her; I need not care and think and worry about her, so much. I can’t explain her, that I put no effort. Its all within me, ever since my heart was lost to her. I often put her in those awkward situations, when I am unable to reason my worries, and she is unable to understand them.

Lately, I had a fight with a friend, who questioned of her job and her foolishness of falling in THIS pit. It was an emergency; she could have done nothing. She was not selfish to drag me into this. She was helpless for both of us. Her signature on the consent slip, saved us.

In fact, if people knew what was hidden inside me, they would think I am selfish. I am not. I know I am not! But I have no courage; neither to announce my hidden toy, nor to reason my selflessness in this matter.

Often I think , that I am cheating her. I may not actually deserve the esteem she has put me into. It is simply the most purest emotion, my love, whose slave I often become. Something, she has the least notion of.

She seldom confesses her problems to me; in an awkward fear, that, I burden her by these unnecessary  favours. It was very difficult, until now, that I have convinced her to not record my favours, for they are not favours…… just…..friendship….