You owe me nights, so many nights

I'll love you until I run out of words. Then I'll love you in the silence.

Now I am scared of people who go the extra mile for me, like the girl spreading love which she never witnessed or the stranger making sure I'm fine on watching watery eyes or the tea seller's kid giving me the fallen ₹10 note. They are all kind people and I don't fall in love - I fall in kindness

Your words call me unfaithful when I don't read them in your voice.

You are bougainvillea, my love. Growing in the broken vase of my heart. I can see you are confused, and your errant branches covers all the stories I wish I was a hero in. Here's a question, Here's the only question - "If given a chance, will you still grow in the same vase? Again?"

Nothing in this world resemble home more than your name.

Met her. Talked. Cried. Laughed. And now I feel small and inconsequential again. Why do I do this to myself? Have I not any self respect? Anyway, the heart-burn is gone for a minute.

And now This heart Is angry. So this heart paints itself black And decides Tonight This heart will make you jealous. This heart is broken But it will not shatter.

...Quivering like the voice of a girl too scared to not laugh at rape jokes; and that's when the bell rang. To read full Check poem "I am a bad teacher"