Frames of Love

As I sit to pen down,

A Sheotry over another sip of caffeine,

Way down by the stream,

How, Sweet it will seem, 

And, I Doodle up scratching our names,

by staring at our beautiful photo frames.

The frames remind me of your games,

The one which giggles me, 

Some of which moan me,

And the rest,

weary me into pieces.

The empty coffee mugs still behold the aroma of your lips,

Without his hugs and pecks on my cheeks,

With endless tears rolling down,

And makes my face with pretty kicks.

The Tarpaulin of my life,

lies Wishy-Washy,

Waiting to be decorated, 

with Flowers and Ornaments.

Here I am, 

Waiting for your Love,

To chant some magic spells, 

and turn out everything well. 

Asking me to smile all over again,

By helping me bake the cookies of faith,

Without the fear of getting hurt,

yet again and, 

Missing his winning words, As

It makes me sore on the ground.

I Hereby, 

Beholding the essence of love within; 

As my pen wants to bleed thoughts,

Those which were once weeds,

Now want to bloom,

And long for nourishment,

The rived bookmark reminds me of the incomplete poetries,

The ones which we promised to fulfill like fairies,

And dive into the ocean of love,

Like fishes hoping for water,

Birds cupidity to fly high,

And animals quenching their thirst for prey,

For once,

And all,

That's what I want.