Intangible reality

Love is devotion,
Love is blind, 
Love is patient,
Love is kind.

Love is not proud,
Love does not envy,
Love is not loud,
Love does not kill you gently.

When love is real
It does not lie,
When love is real
It brings you joy.

True love makes you feel wanted,
True love is not easily angered,
True love isn't what you say,
True love is what you do.

What is love if not just a feeling,
Alluring us in a glorious daze,
No one knows what love is concealing,
Beneath the countless tomes in its praise.

Hubris

Shaken, but not broken
Her dignity wrapped in silence;
She hopes to forgive him, in time;
Giving up her fragile pride.

Proud, but not ignorant
His vanity basked in her love;
Knowing she won't confront him;
Veiling reality over his hubris.

Rainbow

Like rainbow in the sky
On a cloudless, sunny morning;
Thank you for bringing incredible joy
To my life everyday.

Bliss

Feeling of sheer bliss
After a hard days work
Melting in your arms

You

You came, you saw
You didn't say a word
Yet, conquered my heart

Yearning

I've been bestowed with a fair share of academic titles and professional designations. The one that continues to elude me - and which I cherish most of all - is that of being a 'writer'. My family and close friends indulge me at times. When I urge them to critique my writing they don't shy away from lavishing praise.

"You've got such refined writing skills" 
"This piece is comparable with the work of the best its genre"
"You're sure to win the first prize if you submit this for a competition"
"You're such a gifted writer!"

Their compliments are genuine, emotions heartfelt and love unconditional. It was this form of encouragement from an early age that egged me on. I acknowledge them humbly, albeit with a pinch of salt.

Alter ego

He flirts with me all the time
Helps me satiate my need to write
Keeps me ticking 
And preserves my sanity.

He also annoys me
Poking fun at my desperation
Provokes me to accept mediocrity
Mocks me till I take short cuts.

I know he's just trying to reach out
Nudging me to follow my heart
Deep within the confines of my being, 
I know there is a writer aching to break out;
Shrouded in my fear of the unknown, 
he lends dignity to my servile existence.

The gift

I expected something special. After all, it was my 16^th birthday. A blueberry cheesecake. The new Xbox 360. Maybe a treat at the exclusive diner.

He gave me the truth. It was his boyfriend, not mom, who died when I was an infant. And their love had lived on, in me, their only surrogate son.

As published in the blog 55WordStory on the theme "Gay"

Love without luxury

His hugs were so warm and cozy. Her kisses were full of tender love and care. He flashed his sunny grin again. She matched it with an endearing smile. It was such a dilemma each night. In the makeshift asbestos shelter near the construction site, a mother did not have the luxury to pick sides.

As published in the blog 55WordStory on the theme "Love and other wars"

Lovelorn

When the days always seem dark

And merge into nights of gloom;

Wandering like a lifeless soul,

You fade towards your doom.

Cherished memories, lingering dreams

Nurtured with desire and anticipation;

Alas, the heart is easily broken,

Leaving behind a treasure of emotions.

What was an affection, becomes devotion,

Unbridled, it blooms into romance,

Unrequited, it's an endless heartache.