Oh well.....

Love,while the cards are still not shuffled and you're winning probabilities,
Expect,like half-shut doors and silent phones at 3AM,
Leave,while the night is still dark and the lonely bulb flickers in your mansion,
where the blankets are cold with words, where memories are held for ransom
You sit beneath that bulb rocking that chair and few other things,
with open arms and the butterfly effect in perfect sync,
And then love, while sketching an oasis over a mirage,
Expect, while hearts still resemble Rock-Paper-Scissors,
Leave, while insanity still figures out dreams on a collage.

Of madness...of love....

Madness is not a bad thing. Love is madness.
It cannot be justified wrong or right but can only be felt by one.
It's like witnessing a wonder of the world, you cannot criticize it for what it is or even rather for what it is not. You can only be overwhelmed by the fact that you're a part of it for now.
And then it's almost as if you want to get off a roller coaster, you just wont spoil the experience for yourself but for others who were a part of it as well.
Love ought to be madness, there's no reason for its existence if its not. After all, being in love is loving yourself, talking to yourself, doing things which you never thought you would do.
You just cannot love someone and define a limit in it.
It's a dried tear drop on piano keys, it's a keyhole with passion on the other side, it's a sin without a guilt and it's a beach without a sun but with stars.
Limiting love would be like counting the number of times you breath and trying to keep the number same everyday.