Unsaid.

Some are spoken, spoken aloud,
Some are not.....But they are,
They remain..somewhere..latent.

These are not those words,
which come out 'naturally'.
They are like strong gush of water,
forcing away through the glass,
on a dark stormy night.
which flickers, it shivers, like a snake on glass.
It might, just as well speak, but not to be heard.

These words do not comprise of large and categorized
sweeping generalizations and observations ,
but of those little things which push hard,
to get through those split ribs,
with the desire to be expressed.

These words lie buried in fissures of the key hole, when one can't get that thing going,
They come with the smile on one's face when thinking of an ugly, coarse thought,
They are found on the little scribblings, in class, during a lecture,
They are found in those sigh of reliefs, when reached office on time,
They are the same when one doesn't reaches office on time,
They are ones's company in snarling traffic,

They are the words, at times,
When all one wants to say is those words,
And all you say, is but them,
They live through you,
But die on our lips,
They are those silent explosions,
They surface when one blinks and winks,
They are those unpleasant curses,
They are those silent prayers,
They are the moments of grief,
They are the bright flashes,
They are the dark skies.

They are just those little things,
They ensure that there is light in our own skies.