The philosophy of entwined fingers.

They'll see your fingers entwined
And know for a fact that it is love.
Short-lived or just for the night or forever:
This distinction no one can make.
Just love in its form of tantalizing serenity
A promise when your hands touch,
A history so deeply etched that
When you're old and blue, her fingers
Entwined in yours will make you feel
Love in full bloom--fresh and undying.

Her touch, her heavy breath, her crystal
Eyes that give her away--you'll memorize
It all. And the memory will rush back to you
When she hides the flaws of your palms
In hers. Like she owns them, like she'll
Cure them. And when perfection sings
To you, you'll know it is your fingers curled around hers
That make the music. In the brief moment
Before you have to run and give it all up
Hold her hand again--she'll teach you how to live.

A whisper of the start of something that only
Time will tell how long it will last. A scream
Of distance that you know not how long you need
To map. A cry of an uncertainty: Blame the wandering
Heart. But a forever, a story, a never-ending connection
Of the time your fingers entwined in completion.
A story you'll tell with everyone you've ever loved,
But for now--it is her. Her fingers will make you
Promise for eternity plus one. When silence fails you one day,
Entwine your fingers around hers, reassure her, and stay.

Raw, naive, young.

I wish someone could click a picture of how we looked with certainty from the terrace into the warmth of yellow lights on the street tonight

I pray that this circle of comfort and happiness never breaks off into nothingness once we share a new bond

I hope that the cuddles stay, the giggles lurk, the whispers echo, the shadows dance ever so beautifully that we never forget to live in that moment

I want to sit tucked in and ask myself why is life defined by moments like these, where silence is loud and words are unique

I wish someone could capture the essence of the night in words, in eyes, in memories and tuck them into our pillow covers, so we can sleep soundly

I wish, I wish, I wish life was just poetry.

Hold on to This Moment

I often wondered why people live in just certain moments and feel dead in the very next. I wonder how we are capable of loving in a minute and detesting in the next. I wonder how minutes,how time,how the striking noise of the ticking clock mount up to these memories that are irreplaceable.
Don't we all have those nights when we struggle to do something and fail miserably at it, just because all we want to do and need to do is stare at the wall? Just think of those memories and let it come rushing back to us, realising that they were never too perfect, but at least, they were happy. Like your friend getting your name wrong on your birthday cake, like spell-errors or auto-correct mistakes in your chat boxes, like buying the best gift and finally gifting it in pieces because you took too much care but failed to notice when your hand was causing all the trouble, like driving around the city at 2 AM knowing that if you're caught,you're dead. These moments-these random,imperfect,dusty memories-are all that we live for,some times.

But time runs faster than you can think. When you're enjoying this moment right now, ten years down the line-nothing will remain the same between your friends and you and all you have is the memory. The memory that is bottled up in music,in smells,in notes,in smiles,in photographs,in gifts,in places. The people you've had your most adored moments with might not be someone you love too much. Honestly, you might hate them. But times with them are inevitably memorable and are etched in your hearts for eternity. Does that then count as love? Because honestly, they made the moment unforgettable and if wasn't for them, life wouldn't be what it is right now. And really, the best love is insane.
Time is the devil, we all ignore when we're living the moment-fully and completely. And once she's gone, you realise that time leaves behind too many scars that you left unnoticed just because you were so happy-too glad to feel anything but the wholeness of the moment, its infinity and its superiority.
And once you know that the person you were in that moment, isn't the person you are today, it won't kill you, it won't sadden you, it won't break you-it'll make you glad. Glad that you grew-for the better or for the worse-that you're no more that person. And so the memory will be stark because when you're not the same person as you were in the moment, you'll just hold on to the memory and build a world with all the tiny bits and never feel the same way you felt in that moment-making the memory all the more important because you'd love to remember how you felt-how happiness felt,how being loved felt.
That's the magic of little moments, they're complete,imperfect,beautiful,happy, and an infinity of their own and when we realise that life is just about these moments, we're living in every moment we think of these memories. We're whole just because these are definitions of us-nothing will ever complete you like your memories do-because they're pieces of you that you've left behind and will never find anywhere else except in that air-tight space where you've bottled up these memories for an eternity.