No, I don't want to write About love, longing, her silence, our fight I don't want to write I won't say that I'm sad coz we're far apart It won't matter one bit, I know in my heart She may be sleeping right now With her head resting on his chest While I'm awake like an idiot With senseless thoughts, one after next What did she wear today, blue or red Was it a saree, a skirt, a Jean or a dress Were her hair tied in a bun Did she sport a pony Was it the day for the plait Or she had her long hair cut I think of her kajal suddenly And of her bangles Her tiny black bindi And the last seen curls I remember her smile Reaching those doe eyes Her playful banter with me Not so innocent lies The feel of her fingers in my hand The smell of her hair What I won't give to hug her Once more without care But I silence further memories Of when she had left Handling the years of agony In which I wasn't deft So, there won't be a poem I'm don...
तुझे देख लेते हैं तो सहारा रहता है दिन ख़ुशनुमा मेरा सारा रहता है जो लिखा, तुझपर ना हो फिर भी तेरे ख़याल को इशारा रहता है कल छू गईं थीं उँगलियाँ अपनी मदहोश तबसे बेचारा रहता है खुली ज़ुल्फ़ तो जो ये रूप निखरा क़ैद मैं ही दिल हमारा रहता है ऐनक लगी, बड़ी, काली आँखें, देख लें तेरे दीवानों का गुज़ारा रहता है रात ढले, तसव्वुर में तुझे लाये हुए शायर इक, नाकारा रहता है