Shakespeare

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before the bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head;
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay:
In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Without all ornament, itself and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
And him as for a map doth Nature store,
To show false Art what beauty was of yore.

A Second Chance.

LOVE.

  Makes you believe in neophilia.

  Holds you spellbound about sunsets and rains.

  Makes you fall for destiny.

  Turns you into someone you have to pretend to be.

  You start turning guns into roses.

  I plead you to stop.

  I demand you to look through.

  It is just nature's way of tricking people into reproducing.

CONDOLENCES.

And The Story Begins.

Today, on this day,

In this world, this belligerent world,

I, you, he, she. him and her

Make ourselves fall in love

You and I. He and She.

Who are splenetic by the course of life,

Try to find pleasure 

In the gorgeous body,

To escape the cantankerous course of life.

We do have reasons. 

Unexplained reasons. 

The ornery reasons.

You and I, him and her.

Fell in love not with the soul.
We fell in love with the body that one day is going to rot away.

-रिया  सिंह