I stay inside a box of rain,
Filled with charms and essences,
In the overlapping groves of memories,
As moments testify their presence.
No! These are not archives of my thoughts,
For they are breathing droplets,
Consistent like rhythms of my chaotic heart,
Alive and dead – but only for this moment.
If I were to pen down my thoughts,
Like the way it rains inside this box,
A flood would consume you, and me too.
Shall we just keep it quiet then?
You are welcome to my box of rain,
You could get your raincoat
But I sit naked, and I dare others to lie beside me,
To know the warmth of these globules.
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