Confused.

The day was really fun!I really can't forget the joy.How i met my old school friends and how it felt to embrace them again!It was really special when we sat together the tried to reprise the old days again! And among my friends i saw her.She is my friend too.Really?Is she?
And my mind was all confused once again.What should I do?Talk to her?Or avoid her?However,at last I couldn't stop myself talking to her.It felt good.But it felt even more sad.I wanted to touch her.And look into her eyes.Oh,they were beautiful.I kept looking.And I went back one year.How we enjoyed that day.Together.Under one umbrella.It was great.How we lit the candles in front of Rizwanur Rahman's Photo.How we celebrated love.How it felt when i rest my head on her shoulders.Those days were gone.And reality hit me.She was not there.She was talking to someone else.I don't have the right to tell her to sit in front of me.I don't.
And she was gone.
For the day.
For the year.
I missed her.
Is it love?
Is it lust?
I dont know.
I dont know at all.I cant make up my mind.I am confused.

Once Upon A Time....There Lived a Poet...

Far away.....in some distant land.....
There lived a poet..
A poet...Who had Billion Dreams...
Of Happiness....and full of Love.....
Yet....
The Dreams were in his Dreamland....
They never came true......
And...nobody cared......

He was all alone.....
Nobody to care..
nobody to love....
Nobody to stand by him.....
His diary was blank.....
There was no poem to publish....
No poem to make him famous...
No poem to let people know him...
Yet he was a poet.

All day the poet wondered.....
How he lost his heart....
How he lost his poems....
How he lost his songs...
The Songs of Life...
The Poems of Love....
How he lost himself.....
Yet he was a poet.....

Days past by....
And He met his Death....
The House was empty....
And his lifeless body lay in the ground....
Nobody to take him...Bury him.....
The Body laid there....
His empty diary was beside him....
Its open pages were filled with blood...
And some broken glasses....

His life ended.
He was no one important.
His history was meaningless.
His story ended its life.
Just like him.
Yet he was a dreamer.
Yet he was a Poet...

Death Of A Poet.....

All i could see was darkness all around.....all i could hear the fan moving round and round......all i could smell the dampness in the air....all i could feel that my hurt is burning.......
And my diary lay beside me.......and its pages are being flickered by the winds.....and i could feel how fast the pages are turned over and over.......as if the wind was reading.....very fast as if there's nothing in it...nothing....
Maybe there was nothing.....but it had some things which narrate some days of my life...some moments of my life.....some broken dreams of my life........
Maybe the pages still cry over my life.....over my failures....over everything that happened to me......
but the wind ended it all....as if nothing happened to me.....as if it didnt matter at all.....

The pages could not unveil the sadness inside me........the pains inside me.........
The Sorrow inside me.....How I was hurt...how i was betrayed....how i was left to die......
How I suffered.......
But still the pages failed......


The Poet in Me died......