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What is love? The love, you ask me—
It’s pure devotion, soul’s decree.
When minds grow weak, but hearts stay true,
They hold each other, seen or through.

Though distance swells like oceans wide,
Their hearts still walk, side by side.
Eyes closed—yet feel the other near,
In sky’s soft breeze, their souls appear.

Love is so pure, so childlike true,
Where we unveil the child in you.
We giggle, stumble, fall, forgive,
In flawed delight, we learn to live.

We love our flaws, and theirs as well,
In quirks and faults, we softly dwell.
For in those cracks, the light gets in—
And makes us whole, beneath the skin.

It's not just marriage, nor a vow,
But deeper than the world allows.
A sacred bond, unnamed, unseen—
Yet felt where hearts have always been.

When they are near, the world turns still,
Their footstep sings, the air grows still.
Their breath, their walk, their quiet beat—
A melody in silence sweet.

Devotion woven, thread by thread,
Alive in tears, in joy, in dread.
Through hurt and high, through loss and gain,
They hold your soul in love’s refrain.

A sacrifice not made to boast,
But one that feeds your spirit most.
Not “I am right”—but “we are whole,”
Together braving every toll.

What is love? You ask again—
It’s where you face the world through rain.
It’s solace in a bond so deep,
Like mother’s love, before we weep.

What is love? You ask once more—
It’s when two hearts, through every war,
Still choose each other, every time,
In silence, speech, in storm, in rhyme.

Whether friend, or blood, or fate,
In every form, love resonates.
It is not owned, it is not named—
It’s felt. It’s lived. It’s never tamed
"A reflection on how love exists beyond labels—pure, tender, and eternal."
Pen name: Aalokya Mridula vaani
I have all this love
And nowhere to put it
It's rotting inside me
Soft,warm
Unspent.

I reach out in dreams
But wake up alone
His name buried in my throat
Like a secret
I was not allowed to say.

He didn't stay
But the love did
And now it grows wild
Inside a heart
With no one left
To give it to.
"I love you"

I didn't realize those words

Could also be used 

As a goodbye
I only drown us more
When I reach for your light
Pull each other down deeper
Into the eternal night
Why is it only when we cry
When we feel in despair
That our life is broken
Beyond repair
That we cannot be fixed

That with open heart
We finally turn to God
Hands full of broken parts
That we can finally say
I am so sorry, dear God

Can you please help me
If this was your last
Would you be satisfied
With the words you had to say to me
With whatever's on your mind
I do not know your name—
only your silhouette
etched in the echo of things I was not given.
Your absence was my alphabet.
I spelled every woman with your ghost.


They loved me.
But I loved you through them.
Your hands behind their voices.
Your eyes haunting their praise.
They were flesh, and I was kneeling.


I made gods of strangers.
I made homes of hunger.


Mother—not mother.
Lover—not lover.
I could not hold the difference.
They all became symbols
and I became a shrinekeeper,
tending lies with tenderness.


Forgive me,
those I touched but never saw.
I was trying to reach through you
and forgot you were not them.
And they were not you.
None of you asked for this altar.


I am dismantling the myth.
I am returning the light.
Though my hands falter, and memory fades, though silence mocks what time once praised— still I press on, a nameless mason, laying truths I carved from shame.

I raise no banner, claim no throne, but whisper into winds unknown: “If not for glory, then for grace, that one may rise from this same place.”

Let ashes speak where tongues fall still, and let these stones outlast my will. For in the dusk of spent desire, a single spark can birth a fire.

So let these hands, though bruised and worn, etch quiet hope in break of morn. Not for acclaim, nor out of pride, but so one day, someone might find—

among the ashes, amid the dust, a trace of love, a seed of trust. That though I faltered, I still gave, and from these ruins, left something brave.
They asked, “Who broke your heart?”  I smiled,
As if the wound had healed a while.
But silence pressed behind my teeth,
A name I buried underneath.

Not one, I said   but many things:
The way she left, the way hope clings,
The way a laugh turns into mist,
The way you ache for lips you kissed.

It wasn't just her voice gone still,
But how the world grew cold and shrill.
It was the songs that made me cry,
The empty space when love says goodbye.

They asked again  “Was it her name?”
And still, I couldn’t place the blame.
A heart breaks slow, then all at once
Not just by loss, but lack, and months.

So who? I whispered to the night.
“I broke it too  by holding tight.”
11. 06.2025
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