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You weren’t naïve for loving, just unprepared for how beautifully pain could dress itself.
She walks, and morning learns to blush,
With every step, the roses rush.
The stars, once proud, now dim their light,
For in her eyes, they lose the fight.

Her smile,like dawn that breaks the gray,
It turns my darkest thoughts away.
No poet’s ink, no painter’s hue,
Could ever capture all she’s due.

She doesn’t know, she’ll never see,
How much of her lives deep in me.
She breathes, and all the world feels right,
She speaks, and silence takes its flight.

Each time she laughs, the heavens bloom,
The winds themselves make softer room.
The sky I see is not the same,
Since the day I whispered her name.

She's not just beauty carved in grace,
She's warmth, she’s wonder, time, and place.
And every time she meets my eye,
The whole of me fills with her sky.
I'm in shackles, not looking for keys,
No dreams of escape, no silent pleas.
The iron hugs me like a fate I chose,
But this pain, this ache, only I know.

One by one, I break my bones,
Not in hope, not to atone.
Each crack sings like a prayer gone wrong,
A mournful verse in a forgotten song.

They do not see the blood I spill,
The silent wars, the quiet ****.
They think I sleep, they think I breathe,
But I’m unraveling beneath each sheath.

These shackles aren’t just forged in steel,
They’re made from every wound I feel.
And as my flesh gives in to dust,
So does my soul, so does my trust.

Each snap, a scream that no one hears,
Each fracture, stitched with ghosts and fears.
Not breaking free, but breaking down,
Stripped of name, stripped of crown.

No freedom waits at the end of this game,
Just pieces of me too worn to name.
But still I crack, bone after bone,
Tearing away till I’m fully gone.

Let them wonder what silence means,
I was never bound by chains,
I was bound by me.
Attaf Alvi Jun 19
to melt into the silence between moments
to slip through the cracks of now and vanish
to forget the shape of my name
to be a shadow unchained from the sun
to outgrow even the ache of wanting
to rest where nothing remembers me
Attaf Alvi Jun 19
She smiles,
and in that moment, the world feels lighter.
Her eyes glow, shrinking gently
as joy pulls her lips wider,
a laugh that heals,
even hearts that forgot how to feel.

Her hair, sometimes a river, sometimes a wave,
holds the scent of days you wish would never end.
And when she tucks it behind her ear,
I wish my hands were brave enough to try.

There’s warmth in her touch,
not heat,
but the kind you carry in memories,
soft, and only found in kind souls.

She looks,
and the world forgets to turn.
She speaks,
and I find myself lost, willingly,
in the quiet storm of her gaze.

From head to toe,
she is art no brush could recreate,
a masterpiece
God signed with a whisper.

If only I could see her always.
If only she could hear all this from me.
If only she looked at herself
through my eyes,
she’d finally know
what true beauty really is.
Attaf Alvi Jun 16
Does a soul ever die, or drift past the veil,
When breath is but wind and the flesh turns pale?
Is death just a door that creaks open slow,
To fields beyond time where the stilled ones go?

Do we vanish like echoes that fade in the air,
Or whisper through dreams to show we were there?
A flicker, a shadow, a name softly said,
Do we live in the hearts that remember the dead?

Maybe the soul, like a flame, just transforms,
Not lost in the dark, but reshaped by the storms.
Perhaps we're the stars in a deep endless sky…
No, a soul never dies, it just learns how to fly.
Attaf Alvi Jun 6
I sat with myself in the quiet of night,
No stars above,just the pale ceiling light.
And there in the silence, a voice came through,
Not a whisper from others,but from me to me, true.

“Hey,” I said softly, “how have you been?
You smile out loud, but you’re aching within.
You joke with the world, you wear the mask well,
But when no one’s watching, you’re locked in your shell.”

I stared at my hands, both empty and tight,
Gripping regrets that visit each night.
I chase after dreams with feet made of doubt,
And wonder why nothing ever works out.

“You blame the world for the pain you feel,
But isn’t it time to start being real?
You wait for change like it’s due to arrive,
But how will it come if you don’t first strive?”

“I know,” I confessed, “I’ve been hiding too long,
Singing the right words but living them wrong.
Expecting the world to hand me a sign,
When the fault and the fix have both been mine.”

“I need to be better,no more disguise,
To face my own demons, to open my eyes.
To be who I am, not who they demand,
To build not with fear, but with my own hands.”

So I sat with myself ‘til the morning grew gold,
A boy and his shadow, growing bold.
And I promised that night to start anew,
Because change won’t come…
'til it first comes from you.
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