Me and my loneliness, often we talk ... if you were here then how would it have been ... you would have said this and said that, you would have been surprised at this, how much would you have laughed on this ... if you were here then this would have happened and that would have happened ... me and my loneliness, often we talk

A flower stays quiet but it still says a lot with its colour and fragrance

The thing that can be said with words ... is not a thing at all

So what if a dream turns into an incident and scatters ... time cannot change the emotions ... the feeling doesn't die when one becomes distant ... this love is a relationship of hearts ... a relationship which cannot be distributed like land on the borders ... you may be the beautiful moon of someone else's nights ... but you are present in every colour of my world ... my dreams, my hopes are enlightened because of you ... whichever path I may pass through, but you are my destination

I am not someone who will vanish ... from wherever I pass I show my talent ... not only friends, even my enemies remember me

Two words ... isolation, loneliness ... but if you write them together they can become one world, one universe, one quest, one moment, one happiness

This helpless situation is here and there as well, a night of loneliness is here and there as well ... I have a lot to say but whom should I say it to, until when should I remain quiet and suffer ... the heart says that let's break all the procedures of the world, and let's drop the wall that is between us ... why should we burn in our hearts, let's tell the people ... that we are in love, we are in love, in love

Till today I haven't been able to separate from the torment of life ... but after meeting you may be, I'll be able to build a relation with the torment of heart

Without waiting for you I still waited for you on every turn ... without wishing for you I still yearned for you at every step ... without loving you I still loved you so much that I didn't have the desire to love anyone else

If the question itself is the answer ... then the question does not remain a question

The more distant a person is ... that much more closer that person is

The past things in the windows of memories ... the secrets of some moments in the disturbed breathes ... the unheard songs in the dew of love ... the forgotten promises on the lonely paths ... how can one remember that, how can one remember that ... the nights filled with dreams in the silent voices ... the disturbed scarf in the wet weather ... the moving eyeballs in the blinking eyes ... the kiss with your lover with his half open lips ... how can one remember that, how can one remember that

The moments that don't have the colour of your lips ... those moments haven't passed ... they have stopped somewhere

Is it night or is your hair disseminated ... is this moonlight or are my nights damped by your eyes ... is this the moon or your bangle, are these the stars or your scarf ... is this a gust of wind or the fragrance of your body ... is this the soft rustling sound of the leaves or did you whisper something ... I'm quietly thinking about this since a long time, and when I know that you are not here, nowhere around here ... but this heart is saying that you are here, somewhere around here