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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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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.
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Every sunrise feels older now, like it’s seen me fall and still returns— I think that’s what love must be. It doesn’t ask for explanations, doesn’t wait for me to be ready. It just shows up— steady, unembarrassed, pouring gold over the ruins. The kettle hums,
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Let me fly a thousand miles in my dreams, As only in dreams, I feel truly free. Let me wash my sins in rivers of pure streams, Where fear of drowning claims no hold on me. Let me not be judgmental, Of the quiet virtues of those with tender hearts,
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The sindoor does not just rest on her skin— it transforms her. Her face, already a garden of laughter, suddenly carries the radiance of flame. Every curve of her smile glitters brighter, her eyes bloom softer, yet stronger— as if the sun itself leaned closer to watch her shine. In
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Each to their own orbit, bound, Each to their own center, wound. Each in their own sphere, confined, Each in their own spin, defined.
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Please be a little slow, oh summer ! In sunflower fields , sleep a little, oh summer ! On mangoes and jackfruit logs where bees buzz and stuck With thy warmth lives bloomed with the grandeur of luck. Shaking of the drunken drowsiness of Spring . All in a tune those sun soaked afternoons
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Your eyes. Your beautiful brownie eyes. They remind me of the season autumn . The way they shine feels like falling leaves in golden skies. Soft as whispers that comfort my soul, A warmth that stays and makes me feel whole, A golden fire that makes me feel comfortable. And every