Indian Thinker : Mr Endangered Thoughts

It began like a spark I didn’t expect, one glance, and suddenly butterflies I thought I had outgrown were back. With that presence near me, I felt younger, like life had quietly handed me back a piece of my lost youth. The joy was raw, almost frightening in its intensity. Since then, I’ve been walking around carrying this storm inside me. I think of it every minute, on the road, at work, even when I’m trying to focus elsewhere. Yet my hands stay tied. I can’t speak, can’t reach out. That helplessness stings, but it also makes the feeling burn brighter. When it ended, I felt unfinished. No closure. Nothing was spoken, nothing asked. I walked away carrying silence as much as I carried love. That silence has been heavy. So I poured it out in words instead, poems, notes, quiet whispers meant only for a blog page or for myself. In them, I spoke indirectly: “You know I’m talking about you. Reach for me.” In them, I captured the strangeness of love, how it makes you restless, yet gives j...

  I walked into a room of fleeting hours, faces came and went like passing showers. But one stayed -  not in the room, but in my mind, like an echo that refuses to fade. We never spoke the way I wished, never carved the silence into words, yet I carried whole conversations with you in the quiet corners of my heart. You don’t know how many words I swallowed back when you were near, how many times I wanted to break the air just to say— it’s you I’ve been waiting to meet. I’m not asking for promises, not asking for forever. Just one message, one sign, one spark— to tell me I wasn’t alone in this. Yes, I am talking about you. If you’ve read this, you know how to find me.

  It’s not every day that butterflies return, fluttering in a heart that thought it had learned. Strange, how a glance can pull back the years, and youth walks in, brushing off the fears. At night I wonder, quietly, alone, can love be reborn, seeds suddenly sown? Does she feel it too, this unspoken fire, or is it just me, caught in desire? I cannot confess, the words never flow, I just hope my silence is something she knows. That, perhaps, she’ll come near to me, as if love itself willed our destiny. Isn’t it weird, this funny disguise, a joy that hides in sleepless eyes? Isn’t it strange, how it makes you smile, even if it lasts just a little while? It is weird, it is fun, it is tender above, it is nothing and everything -  it is just love.