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
English
Maybe writing is a not an obvious art form. You don't create butterflies out of thin air or spin delicately 7 times in a row. But then again, what is more artistic than to create a fictional place where true love exists, where friends sacrifice themselves for each
English
Krishna and Draupadi’s friendship reminds us of one timeless truth.. a real friend never allows your self-respect to be broken. Draupadi did not ask Krishna to fight for her ego or pride; she only asked for the protection of her dignity. And Krishna understood her pain without words, because
English
Some nights feel heavier than others, not because of loneliness, but because of memory. Because of all the moments I replay in my head where I could’ve chosen better, spoken softer, listened longer, paused instead of reacting. I look back and realize how many times love was right there
Poem
She kept staring at the door, waiting for him— every day, every hour, every minute. When the doorbell rang, her heart would race. With every chime, she hoped that this time, it would be him. And when he returns, after battles fought and miles endured, she will hold him. Her
English
For the world, you are many things. But for me— you are my calm, my comfort, my purple. 💜
English
Some people write to love. Some write to be loved. Some write for love. Some write to move on. But... Some people write to heal, To love themselves even more. Some write for strangers, Telling how pretty they were. Still, they also write because they love. —Shristi
Poem
I dance with my own shadow, 'Cause there's no one to hold my trembling hands, or share soft gaze. I dance with my own shadow, 'Cause there's no one to match my pace, or move in the same sequence. I danced with my own
Poem
The lost maiden, Wanders deep within, With thoughts of him, and what had drawn her in, She willed those thoughts to leave, Recalling the torture she reprieved, The sheer panic and congestion, As he stood towering, with bated aggression, Stocky, wide and unattractive, Unloving the maiden with fierce refraction, He