Her dark eyes sang of wildness,
Her skin promised eternities,
But her heart was lost,
In a place she hoped to find him.

I felt the wind whisper to me, as my mother's tears fell on the earth, unobserved
I heard it say that the clouds are sad too of course, that's why they cry as they could form no words.

I felt the ruin beneath my foot, trying to reach out to me,
I ran my hand along what was left of the monuments and felt their abandonment try to console me,
They said they were beautiful once, but now they stand there, majestically, for they witnessed pain and survived through it when most could not.
There's art in resilience.

I felt the echo of the words, my father once said to me, today, again
"you take care of yourself and do what makes you happy and run if you have to, away from my miseries" I remember having my knee bone crack under the implications of the emotions he left hanging in the air and have them choke me. My heart has been in my throat ever since. No emotion could  ever overshadow it. Like a broken deck, I keep hearing the same thing again and again. I'm sorry I could not fix it. I'm sorry for adding more woes to your miseries.

I felt the bitter resignation of the words crossed with black ink, no longer wanted by the poet that carved them. I can still feel them laughing maniacally, talking about their uselessness. I can get the disappointment an arrow feels when it misses the mark. They say there will be a judgment passed on all of us. But why did God give up on me the moment I was born? Why does every church I have ever been to seem to abandon me when I need it most

I felt the sun drain away my energy as I held my sickly brother in my arms, I felt it shrink away in shame because it was trying to **** his illness away instead. I felt things fail one by one as I sat on my kneees there praying. with my knees bruised and my knuckles gone ******, I stood up and decided no one was coming. And there were other ways to harm myself while still healing, find help with no feet approaching. I decided to write honest words, and have them cut my skin brutally with their tenderness.

I don't know when my words became my redemption, I don't know when they became my sin.

You beckon at me
In my dreams
I yearn for closeness
Just a touch
Just a nod
Anything that confirms
You are here
And you'll stay

I chase after you
But my legs refuse to move
As if I'm stuck
In wet cement
Slowly sinking
With every breath.

The distance between us
Ever increasing
And then she comes
You embrace her
The look on your face
Is so precious
As if you have found
A long lost treasure
I watch you scrape the colors off my world
To paint hers.

With your name still
On the tip of my tongue
I wake up,
Sweating,
My hands look for you,
And these moments are what I live for
When my mind forgets
That you are not there You never were

But then realisation comes
Creeping in too soon.
The rest of the night
Is spent
In tossing and turning

The morning light
With itself brings
Some sleep
As I get ready
For another tiring day

And from my dreams
You slide in my heart,
With every pump
You take over my soul
You occupy my thoughts

You love playing with my mind
If you only knew,
You would show off your smirk
And that smirk would leave
Its trace all over my face
Such crazy things
Only love can do

And I try
To wash your face off
My thoughts
But all the sinews and all the nerves
Start yelling your name
I can't resist you,
My mind refuses to cooperate
And at night,
In my dreams
I see you again

I have been walking around this road
All alone for so long
Unaffected by a friend's betrayal
Or the enemy's kindness
Whether it snows or the sun scorches
I have carried on
Into places unknown
Rendering formal greetings or,
Maybe some small talk
"How have you been"
The weather and the work
Mouth replies dryly
To personal questions
"It feels nice to be here"
While my mind secretly makes
Escape plans
You should not be in this vicinity
Too many people with heart beats
Every Eye filled with a hundred questions
Every mouth desperate to trade secrets
Solitude is the best company, I have learnt
The more silent you are, the more you can listen to God talk
Through the birds and the thousand twinkling stars
Solace can be found in the hardest of times
If only one knows how to dissolve
In the nature around himself
So I shall lay down on wet grass
And the thousand lighting suns will be the roof of my house
With the solitude wrapped around me as a blanket
And the fireflies buzzing in the background
I'll have the sweetest sleep

A new day,
With itself brings,
Its own pain,
Its own medicine
Every day we have to lose a lot,
To gain bits,
We all are bound,
To our own limits.

Every entity is limited to its own boundaries.

The world is as large,
As the place we inhabitate
We only understand nature,
As much as we discover ourselves.

Poets need to stop glorifying heartbreaks and depression. Nothing about depression is appealing and all that blood was never pretty just red and gross. Poets need to stop looking for rhymes in things that have long lost their abilities to speak or, look for a pattern in the way his love comes and goes like the tides on a full moon day. There is none. It is hard to admit it, but sometimes all a poet needs to do is put the pen down, and instead of capturing the moments into words, feel them. Yes, close your eyes and feel the air you exhale and the heart pumping the blood. Sometimes, bleeding on paper ain't enough, sometimes all a poet needs to do is step back and look at his bruised hands and give it the time needed to heal and stop drowning himself in metaphors and similes and get up and stand on his feet and make a difference.
They need to warn the readers and remind themselves that missing someone does not come softly, that there are places where even light cannot reach. They need to stop exaggerating or, underplaying it. Sometimes, they need to stop looking for the reasons for how and why the stars align in a certain way, or why out of all the people who could have broken their hearts, it had to be the one they trusted it with the most.
Sometimes they have to admit, that despite their best attempts there are hearts that won't race on the alphabets and punctuations of what they wrote and there are people for whom their best would never be good enough. And that should not matter.
Sometimes, poets need to realise they are not just a broken memory of the person they were, but that they hold the past, present, and future within themselves. Yes, they are the embodiment of lives. But mostly, One thing that we poets need to understand Is that at the end of the day, when we lay on the bed, we are humans too, and we must find a way to forgive ourselves and all the words we write, should be meant for us. That is the only way we can grow, that is the only way our poems will grow with us when you start being honest with ourselves and not write to fit into some twisted layout the world has set for us.

Had I told the moon
What I felt for you
It would turn a shade darker out of envy
And leave the world in darkness
Only to be my personal guide

Had I shown the sky
What I would do for you
It would fall down
Willing to be the
land I walk on

Had I touched the flower
With the softness
I touched you,
It would shed its petals
So that I could pick them up
And put them in my favorite book

Had I looked at stars
With a gaze I've reserved only for you
They would gladly leave their home
And fall at my feet

Had I whispered the poems
I write for you
To the wind
It would gather all the breeze
And sit on my palm
Hoping to be held

If you decide to ever come my way
Just know that will be the day
The snow inside my heart will melt
Leaving the flowers in a new bloom.

And the rain will dance
To the beat of thunderstorms
The day you embrace my heartbeats
As one of yours.

The dreams of you
Are closer than the kohl lining my eyes
Come, my dear, and catch them
Before they roll down my cheeks.

The black eyes of yours
Are still not familiar
To the promises they have made to mine.

And the spaces between my fingers
Are still holding the pen
Writing about the time
They'll hold your fingers instead

If you decide to ever come my way
Just know that will be the day
The snow inside my heart will melt
Leaving the flowers in a new bloom.

And the rain will dance
To the beat of thunderstorms
The day you embrace my heartbeats
As one of yours.

2 am
And I am wide awake
Singing myself to sleep
Anything to shut the voices in my head

These labyrinth of memories
Keep Reminding Me of all my past mistakes
Till at the regrets aggregate
To make my face.

3am
I just realised how
The roads I have walked on
Have always been  lonesome
And the homes I have made
Have always had a roof of stars
And a bed of earth.

Till one day my feet ran off the ground
And the sky turned out to be a cemetery
Of the wishes
The stars could never fulfill.

And like the stars I realised
How all the pretty things that shine
are slowly dying or ebbing


It is 4 am
And I'm curled up in a ball
Tick tock
Do I hear footsteps
Hello is anyone home?


These quiet hours
Keep growing louder every minute
Till I'm completely consumed
And I become one with the things that have always terrified me

And these words I wrote could never save me
Suddenly it was the silence of the dawn
That had set me free.


The alarm clock's ringing
Remind me it's 5 now
Time to get up
And prepare myself for another war.

And as I look at my reflection,
With pale skin and dark circles under my eyes
I wonder when exactly in the process of surviving
I forgot to exist

When did I become the person
I promised I would not be

A heart like cemetery
Where every time you wish you had died but did not
A new grave was dug
And part of you was laid

A soul so wary
It does not seem to resonate with your age,
And it is always autumn all around you
And you are the leaves that have been let go of

A skin like porcelain
It does little to keep anything in
And all the light inside of you
Has been extracted.

But they cannot understand
And so you never tell,
You tiptoe around the edge of the knife
While waving back at them

As long as your smile does not falter
You'll be the pretty little star,
Flirtatious eyes
And envious remarks
Following every step you take

You have got holes in your heart,
But so what as long as they keep you afloat?
And life has been falling apart
From a year or four
But today, had turned out to be just okay

The atmosphere is
too thick to breathe
Or maybe it is just
the unattainable expectations
keeping my wings still

The pen beckons at me
The paper looks at me
with this seductive appeal
The words in my head yell,
longing to be heard,
But I just can't get out my bed

I see the sun rise,
And watch it set
The next day I thought
Maybe it's getting a little wary
For I'm the flower that refuses to spread my petals
No matter if it comes or goes

When will they realise
I'm too reckless to be contained
Of what use is a bird
whose wings have been clipped off

The walls are all shades of wrong
I blink and I feel them one inch closer
Scared to close my eyes,
Lest I wake up gasping for air
My mind has forgotten how to sleep

And I wonder if anyone else
feels this way
If yes, why have not they found me yet
Is this the wrong world I was born in
How am I supposed to walk in
this skin that never fit me perfectly

I try to hide the chaos in my eyes
Because I'm the only assurance my people have
But I'm falling apart at a pace faster than I can hold on to this pretense
Can someone just
get me out of my bed

Outside my windows,
the leaves fall, unashamedly,
gracefully,
like they're sure,
someone will catch them,
undoubtedly.

In the distance, I hear
A familiar tune, playing,
With words too blurred,
To make any sense of the song,
Nostalgia of the home I left behind
Comes creeping,
Slowly and then all at once.

On my table, sit papers,
All empty,
Pen held tight in my hands,
Benign,
Feelings at the tip of my fingers,
I can't find words for.

When you're writing, show your brutal honesty in the ugliest ways by using the softest words.

I think, and trust me by thinking, sometimes I just mean taking shots in the dark except my shot hits the aim more than my thinking ever leads me to the right spot but this time I have been thinking and I have come to the conclusion that maybe, maybe the reason behind sad posts in a relationship is we love them the way we want to be loved by them and not in ways that would make them feel loved.

I am not weak,
It takes a different kind of strong to allow yourself to feel a lot.
I am no finesse,
There is another kind of beauty in being unadulterated and raw.
I am not a poet,
I'm just a soul trying to reach out to yours.

I like to think
I bury him a little bit
Every day
Under the pile of poems
He'll never get
To read

I like to think
That I have crossed a certain stage
Now that I refer to you
as "him" instead
And in this fact,
I find some solace

I like to think
About the sight Of you loving her
The way I wish you had loved me
And how that no longer
makes me cringe
I'm finally letting go

I like to think
That maybe,
Not all of us can find love
But If we try hard enough,
We will find something greater
Waiting just to happen to us

I like to think
We are more
And will always be
More than the bitter people
Who try to break us,
We are indestructible.