That Innocent Space

I loved her
Since the time
She used to believe
That ants are born out of sugar
Till the time she became aware
It isn't so.

Love
I believe
Is in that innocent space.

Udaasi

There are days
When love doesn't come
As close to me
As your memory.

Which hurts
A lot.

Happiness is so overrated
My love.

I believe
Misery is what holds us together.

Of Earrings and Earlobes

Let me tell you something
Before it is too late.

Remember those earrings that
You had once thought to be missing
Yes the ones
Which you didn't like
But were still looking for.

No
I haven't stolen them.

They came to me
One rainy evening
With a sad face
And said
She loves your ear lobes more
And sat by the table.

Somehow
No offence
I love them
More than your ear lobes now.

Homage

Of all the pilgrims
Who visit
And pay obeisance to your body
My love
Whole night and day
I like that innocent pimple the most
Which stays
By your eyebrow
Chanting absolutely nothing in reverence.

Amorous Terrorism

In love

Most concepts are so out of place.

So when they

Out of intellectual curiosity asked me

What terrorism means

I said

Terrorism is

 When she appears

Out of nowhere

Casually adjusts her flick behind her ear

Smiles

And asks

“Are you OK Mubashir?”

Axiom of Love

This should however

Be remembered.

The utter simplicity

Of my poems

Is directly proportional

To the sheer complexity

Of her beauty.

I write what I comprehend not.

Bibliosmia

"I'm sad Mubashir"

She said

"Tell me something interesting.

Make me feel important"

"My love"

I said

"You always smell like books

And that too

My favorite ones"