Poem
The sky never asks why we look up when we’re hurting. It just stays— wide enough to hold every unsaid prayer. Some days it’s heavy with clouds, some days quietly blue, just like us. No matter how many times we break, the sky reminds us— there is always
Poem
They call it love I call it detachment because when you love a flower you won't pluck it— you'll let it stay. They call it love I call it attachment because when a mom hugs her child She wishes to stay still and never let go.
Poem
बारिश से मेरा एक सवाल है: क्यों आते हो ऐसे कि पूरी दुनिया को दिखाते हो कि तुम रो रहे हो? क्यों आते हो ऐसे कि पूरी दुनिया को दिखाते हो कि तु
Poem
When we are children, we are taught to write with a pencil. Not because it is easier to hold, but because it is easier to erase. At that age, mistakes don’t scare us. A wrong letter, a crooked line, one rub of the eraser and it is gone. No
Poem
Being alone isn’t about having no one. It’s about sitting with your thoughts when the world goes silent. It’s learning to hear your own voice without fear, to feel everything you kept buried under noise and smiles. Alone is not empty. It’s a space where you
Poem
A little sparkle, a shiny spectacle Innocence was her virtue, her desire We call this our soul Holding her sterility Sometimes though earth shatters The land shifts subtly under the ground Knee crumbles onto a fetal position The stomach bounces in sense of doom Yet the little sparkle, delightful in
Poem
I know how the world works the metaphors are imaginative and a rule is the pattern the universe follows But really! I want to be the exception they bewilderingly talk about in the movies, in the romance novels where a man who never believed in love falls heavily for a
Poem
The smoke rises slowly, carrying words that were never spoken. It fades into the air, just like feelings we pretend don’t exist. For a moment, it feels warm, comforting even— then it disappears, leaving behind a quiet ache. Some people don’t heal. They turn their pain into smoke—
Poem
She cries quietly, not because she is weak, but because she has been strong for too long. Each tear carries words she never said, promises she kept, and wounds she learned to smile through. The world sees her silence, but not the storms she calms alone. She doesn’t cry
Poem
Angels have fragile wings — That's why their love feels soft. Demons have cruel hearts — That's why their love feels poisonous. Witches wield black magic — That's why their love feels illusory. Ghosts have summoning power—That's why their love feels tragic. Beasts have
Poem
The year will change its number like a witness changing clothes. Nothing about the crime will be different. The calendar flips, a mere rehearsal of hope before returning to the mundane, just like newly bought planners, just like your promise to never text them back, to never accept an apology
English
Have you ever felt so confused that you can’t see a path forward? At times like that, you need that one person—not to fix anything, but just to make you feel better, to quiet the fight inside your head. But he isn’t here anymore. So you keep