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Some connections don’t need hands to hold— they live in the quiet between heartbeats, in the way your name still feels like home when whispered in my mind. They don’t fade with time; they just settle deeper, like roots that keep growing even in dry earth. Sometimes I
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Off they went to a land Nurtured by their love and struggle. They survived there till age 84 Yet it always seems like they are 48 Someday one of them left the grounds of heaven To another heaven, not as wonderful. The other one departed soon, but my memory is
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His arms found her, and for a moment, the noise in her head bowed its head in silence. She remembered the air changing when he pulled her close. It wasn’t love exactly, it was something quieter, like her heart whispering, “So this is what safe feels like.” A moment
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Walls do not stand, they grow. They climb the sky on vines of shadow and I sink. What light exists is a pinprick in a shroud, a lie told to the lost. I am not lost. I am the shroud. This darkness is not a place. It is a secretion,
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Dear twisted fate, With your promise I wiped my slate. Took the blade with a trembling grin, Twisted the handle laced with sin. I was embraced by the arms of death, Bound to the pain oozing from his breath. Shunned the torment escaping my eyes, Became the object of his
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The sunlight leans in— gentle, curious, as if it wants to know what I’ve been hiding beneath my breath. The bougainvillea sways, and I swear it listens— to the small tremors of my heart, to the words I never said because I was afraid they’d bloom too loud.
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My heart is running in the era of operations, dirty tributaries smoking 'taqleef'. Open fields, wild flower, and motor-running water for the crops feels like lies to my face Aesthetics faces a crisis, cameras laugh at color gradings and grains. I can see no sunrise, no sunset. My
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Despite having little interest in Charlie Kirk or his ideologies, I was shaken to my core when I heard that he had been shot. The news arrived late at night (IST). I have a friend with whom I often discuss politics, but she wasn’t available to chat, leaving me
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Only headlights are seen at the day's epilogue Those pierce the spell of powdered fog As angels’ sighs fall down but thy North Star Holds hands to pass the vision straight ,clearer The spiral web the spider's abode Caught the mist in droplet’s code Wisest
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Not a sea, but Ecstasy in motion, A drowning union, a sacred ocean. Soul not lost, but Annihilated in Light, Day and night vanish in that Sight. It swallows thorns, turns dust to pearls, Shatters the self, unfurls and hurls Every “I” and “you” from its shore, What was two
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The night leans closer, and I let it. There’s a cold breeze brushing past my hair, a few city lights blinking like half-kept promises, and somewhere between the hum of traffic and my thoughts, I start remembering the things I never said. Maybe we all do that— stand under
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I lie down on the sylvan floor, to hear the ancient call. I listen to the lore, through winter, spring, summer and fall. Through the pit I bore, embraced the past in thrall.