His Lost Paramour

He was afraid of Love-of being Loved;
aware of His Vulnerability;
He could never truly,
Love a Woman again;
She had carved His Destruction,
Architect of His Lost Emotions.

He would sing for Her,
She would sit alongside,
Guffawing-Inducing immense Delectation
in His Heart;
And then He would kiss Her gently,
The Girl would wink at Him.

He was convinced,
She was His Soul mate-His Conscience had told Him,
They would Dance,
The Solitude in His Heart,
would be replaced by Her Images,
Of the Love He had towards Her.

His avidities;She perceived,
They would Dream up Their Future;
As They sat Cuddled together,
gazing at the Starlit Sky.
The Shackles that clouded His Soul,
tranquillized by Her Presence,
They would drink each a glass of the best Wine in Town.

He Adored Her with His Heart,
Not knowing,not realizing;
His Faith in Her;
would obliterate His Soul.

The Past had altered His Emotions,
He became a Vagrant,
Many women loved Him;
He tried,returning the Warmth shown,
Nevertheless,not One among Them;
had Him mesmerized,
the way She did.

His Spirits still conjured by the Tricks,
He waves at me everyday,
sitting by the window;
Raising His glass of Whiskey,
He would glance away,
still smoking His Cigar,
Engrossed in Thought.
He is young,
His Countenance unaffected;
Yet His Soul has lost its Charm.

I can see a Child within Him,
weeping for Lovingness;
The Sting still persists,
Only She could give Him the Affection,
the much needed Care.

He seems not to worried,
About the Long Road ahead;
Forbearing the Thorns on the Path,
He Hopes,His Bruised Soul still reckons,
She would return,
the Laughter,the Joy would come back,
He gazes at the Road,
wondering if She would be there,
His Patience guides Him,
As He waits,
for His Lost Paramour to pass by.

The Cicatrices

Stains all over,
The recurring Stabs,
Impressions made by Them;
My Heart Bleeds,
The Wounds which were inflicted-
a long,long time ago,
Not losing its vigor.

The Tears that I once shed,
Have not dried-up,
The Stigmas have only gotten uglier;
The Cicatrices seem to turn into-
Wounds all over again.

My Soul yearns to flee away,
Emotions trapped within-craves for Tending,
A profound longing for Lovingness.
My Heart flutters in dismay,
Thoughts from the Past obscures it.

I shut my Eyes,
In the hope of  an alleviation from the Thoughts,
My Heart still languishing,
Chaos among my emotions occurring,
I could sense yet another Stab,
Right there-on the same Old Wound.
It  bleeds again,
Profusely.
Tears roll down my cheeks,
Just a mere indication of the Anguish i go through everyday.

The dejected state returns,
I try to wipe away those tears;
It appears not to cease.
Images from the Past-even the joyful ones,
seem to bring,
disappointment to my Soul.

A feeling of numbness haunts me,
Every now and then.
Will those Bruises heal completely?
The Ones which make,
my Emotions come to a standstill.
Will The Cicatrices go away?
I wonder.Desiring for a Day without Stains on it.

The Voice in the Dark-an articulation of my Passions,
Urging me to be Cheerful,
Beaming my Spirit with Belief,
Etching Heralds of Hope,
Convincing my Soul.
Then i could feel The Cicatrices wither away,
Fugitively,perhaps.

I do not know till how long,
the Calmness within me shall last,
And assuming the Cicatrices never existed,
I Smile and Strive Forward.

The Masked Strangers

The familiar scent of loneliness,
Began enveloping me,
Those invisible scars-
Started darkening.
The wounds in the past,
Jogging my memories,
That reclusive nature in me,
Revealed itself.

I did not desire for the Care of the World,
For all I could see was-
Envy and Hatred in every one of their Faces.
Love did not matter to me,
For I was lost.
In the frame of mind,
I was enticed by Them-
The Masked Strangers.

Their voices kept me alive-
from fading away;
Their Laughter made me Smile,
As Their words sunk deep,
into the chambers of my Heart,
I basked in Contentment,
for a while-at least.
The loquacious part of me bloomed,
in Their company.
Like true Comrades,
Their shadows joined hands with mine;
Their gentle utterances were melodic to my Soul.

I knew not how Their Faces looked like,
As They were concealed with Masks,
But They never wore,
a Mask on Their Hearts-
They were Humans with Humanity
unlike the Ones i knew.

Courage engulfed my Soul,
They had shown me the Light,
Strengthened me,
There was a joyous reunion of emotions,
In the aura of my Soul,
Reflected from the enthusiasm in Their voices.

They taught me to Love,
my Masked Comrades.

They never removed Their Masks,
from Their Faces,
Yet i knew They were Graceful ones.

They vanished,
Once They knew I was secure enough.

Their voices still resonates in my Soul,
I can still feel Their shadows accompanying me,
Always by my side,
Guiding me.

Hence They will,
forever be my Masked Comrades,
unlike the Masked Strangers,
i once opined Them to be.

The ArchAngel

Woman of strength,
Of mighty Grace-
Thou Art an ArchAngel-
Incomparable in every form,
You make us smile,
When nothing works.
O Woman;
I aspire-though it is impossible-
To get a part of Thy impeccable Grace,
Thy Patience;
Thy irresistible Beauty,
which Man fails to notice;
Thou Art truly-
An ArchAngel who heals,
a fellow Angel with Broken Wings.

Thy Love,Thy Care,Thy Warmth;
The way Thou guides us,
Thou Art so knowledgeable in every way,
Thy inborn nature perhaps;
Woman,You are perfect in all spheres;
Unbelievable Art Thou-
Affectionate,yet Thou never,
asks for our Affection.

O Woman-
Giver of unconditional Love;
ArchAngel of Mankind,
Noble Art Thou,with Thy Wisdom-
Endurer of Pain and Suffering,
Inflicted upon you,
by Humanity,
Yet;
Thy forgiving Grace,
makes me wonder;
Thou Art an Angel-
send to Earth-to save a soul;
which would else,
have perished by now.