If Love was a book…

You would pretend to be its cover

Securing me with insecurity!


If Love was a book,

The pure white sheets of mine

Would turn rubbish with words of yours.


If Love was a book,

I would wish the readers to notice me in it,

But you would dominate me;

And, diminish my grandeur

With your black ink of love

Leaving me to the empty white corners.


If Love was a book,

The chapters of my life,

I would try to convey to the world.

But, you would suppress them all

And make your marks throughout.


If Love was a book,

And if your mistakes symbolize the folds in it,

Even they would hurt

The tip of my fingers with its sharpness

Whenever I try to make them okay.


You would think it as love and,

May try to conclude its plot happily.

But it is only me, who knows the reality;

Where my thoughts,

would forever remain unsaid.



How witty you would play, in the book

in the book; in my life!

In my life!


If Love was a book…

You would obviously cherish it,

But I would definitely burn it

And protect myself from the heat.

For, every love has its end

Just like the last page of a book.

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From the Origin of time many rise and fall like winter weeds, My identity could not be revealed by anyone, My identity could only be revealed if you know me well. There isn't any great mystery about me. What I do is glamorous and has an awful lot of white-hot attention placed on it. But the actual work requires the same discipline and passion as any job you love doing, be it as a very good pipe fitter or a highly creative artist.