#modernromance
There’s a love deeper than it can swim –
Anxious of itself, that it can barely breathe…
A breath so anxious of that very first touch;
As we spin fantasies around a favourite crush…
Our courage never matches what a dream does.
When my eyes open, can my spirit open to you,
Leaning into you; my heart beating harder, like it’s
Learning to beat for two... could I be madly in love,
But still make sense of it all… sense when you’re
Not okay, even when you say “we’re okay.”
Keeping the memory of our young love –
It’s nostalgic ideal; though ideally, we can’t swim,
As far as we hope to see; can’t breathe any harder
When it’s real; but maybe when it’s real, we stop
Living through a reel, trying to capture a moment
That isn’t, “our real,” but only if you want that,
Only if you choose to be real with me.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 3:44 PM UTC
Extra body language—
just for us
to read the room
before the room
reads us.
First kisses
always taste like strangers—
sweet,
but searching...
Elaborate that spirit I adore,
the way it moves freely
each time my hands
translate your skin.
You're a free spirit—
wild in the wind,
yet kneeling in humbleness.
To make you whole,
to keep you whole—
it feels selfish to promise
I’ll love you wholeheartedly
when I’m still mapping
the hidden rooms of my own heart.
Still—
I see you whole.
Divine sight,
as if God blinked
and left His light in your eyes.
Pleasure, patient.
Affirmation, never late.
And when my lips meet yours—
it’s honey spilling slow.
Be sweet as my honey,
and I’ll work your spirit
like a blue-collar honeybee—
faithful to the bloom,
devoted to the nectar.
stirring softness
from sweetness.
I am your honeybee.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 2:53 PM UTC
Find a ‘perfect girl,’
Quoted the imperfect guy
Ten thousand women
In this world—stitched together,
Unfinished, still imperfect
_Flaws
Insecurities
Soft breaks._
I only need one
Who lets me love her
With ten thousand reasons—
Including all the parts she
Thinks need fixing.
Dec 28, 2025
Dec 28, 2025 at 1:31 PM UTC
_Messages are read, all their ticks are blue_ –
an "I love you," comes double-ticked…
maybe it’s not you.
_Love’s built for two, their reasons too_ –
a fake kind of love still tries to play true…
maybe it wasn’t you.
_No, I won’t cry, still stuck up without glue_ –
a sympathetic protagonist, antagonised by
their own heart, and yes… this much is true:
_Perhaps I was never meant
to fall in love with you._
Aug 9, 2025
Aug 9, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
There’s a girl who mirrors my every move—
it makes me afraid of my own reflection.
And if I’m biting time,
then please— _serve me a couple seconds_.
I should’ve loved you better, much earlier…
so I’ll be with you in a second.
Let me shield my eyes— watching you put
on your armour, decorating your smile,
you’re a mouthful of colour.
A love picked from the bunch,
too rare not to treat like a flower.
First as a friend, protective as kin—
even when your salty remarks
mistake pamper for _pepper_.
_Your attraction_? In mint condition—
a treat like a peppermint.
My skin’s a little tinted, my cries tilt
a little sideways— __these long-ass messages__
just to keep you from trailing behind.
Smiling beside you, you give me food
for thought, and a kind word on the side.
It’s hard to find the genuinely kind.
_But you_?
You’re a rare kind— the kind I’d hold
on to, if only I knew how.
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC
_Tick Tick_; goes my heart in the line of a drumbeat
whereas I stray away from long hugs – __it’s an awkward heat__
A stray dog shows love to any hand that helps them eat,
so sure — call me a treat when you say so I’m sweet...
Just don’t toss me out on the street; or throw my heart over
the waters of selling me a dream – __just to make it skip a beat.__
_Hiss, hiss_; is how even the sweetest of kisses can go –
giving a lover a part of my soul – stepping out with my love;
__Being so much like their sole__. Meets and greets; those events
and your people – but if I see they’re not good for your soul,
Don’t expect me to tolerate them at all. Those are the snakes
waiting to bite you, and their venom will poison us both.
_Click, click_; are usually those friendships that won’t last –
blind mice, never calling you out; for the good times to last
Friendships made for the hype, the interest of camera smiles,
but never a picture of genuine trust. Your attention to their
problems is a must, but paying attention to your problems
is too expensive – and that just cheapens love, and I doubt
they would have a problem not showing any value for us -
And in their many smiles, is a smile of joy that we didn't last.
But then again, I’m not in love – but if I was,
I guess these sorts of guidelines should be a must for us.
To make a love that holds onto __loyalty, truth, and mutual trust.__
Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 6:38 PM UTC
Beneath the metro’s twilight hum,
I stood where all the strangers come.
My voice was low, my fingers tight
Around a phone that lit the night.
She spoke — the girl I’d never met,
Whose voice had warmed each day we’d yet
To bridge the miles from screen to skin,
A year apart, but close within.
A village boy from Bengal's rain,
I came by train, through fear and strain.
She hailed from cities far and wide,
A nurse, on duty, time denied.
But just today, for half an hour,
She’d slip from work’s unyielding tower,
And meet me by this concrete gate,
Where pulse and platform danced with fate.
“Gate Four,” I said. “I’m here. Waiting.”
She whispered back, “I see you. Wait.”
My eyes spun fast through faces blurred,
My chest beat loud with love unheard.
Then there she stood — not far, but near,
In steps that wiped away the year.
I thought, “She’s tall.” My throat went dry.
But closer now — we matched in eye.
She didn’t speak — just took my hand,
And led me through this foreign land.
Across the road, beneath the sky,
Our silence hummed a soft reply.
She bought me food — a chicken thigh.
(Though she eats none. I wondered why.)
We sat, she watched, I tried to speak —
But time was short and words were weak.
“I have to go,” she said at last.
And just like that, the moment passed.
No kiss, no vow, no sweeping song —
Just fingers held a moment long.
She turned and walked back to the light,
A nurse again in white and night.
And I — I rode the metro home,
Still feeling less alone, alone.
That evening, after duties done,
We typed the things we’d left unsung.
And somewhere in that crowded thread,
She softly said, “You held my hand.”
The clock moved on. The dreams, they stayed.
A new day dawned, but I replayed
That half an hour — a fleeting grace
When time stood still, and I saw her face.
- THE END -
© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 5:38 AM UTC
We live in between the break
Of things,
Mostly broken and curled up
Into each other.
The glow of the screen,
The result of a million jolts
Crammed into one place.
I suppose we do need things
To spend our money on.
Things that we can add to our dreams.
Especially if it doesn't interrupt
What we've waited all day to watch.
For two broken pieces
Sitting together on the couch,
That's alright.
Of all the times you've appeared
In my dreams,
I cannot tell you what perfume
You had on,
Or what designer brand you wore
From any of the commercials
I've seen.
But when our show goes on break
Or whatever movie we're watching
goes off,
The best advertisement I've seen
Is the way you look at me
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 12:57 AM UTC
A cigarette with a stranger
A just missed bus
The wrong number texted
A Facebook comment thread
This is modern romance
Who said romance is dead?
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
I'm a lot like a fish.
baiting myself in a lake full of surfacing hooks.
Attached to flinging romances.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:08 AM UTC
First impressions passed by
as if too busy to try to please anybody
so
variously,
You were a land dispute in a cold place,
a piece of bacon on a ceramic plate,
a curtain-rod edge that rolled under the bed,
a letter of apology posted slightly late,
the back of a sleek anonymous head
I don't know what I felt for you
so vague, distressing
coloured in shades of irrelevant
Which is the best thing, considering.
When we were together, dinner was fine
conversation stilted but passed the time
I suppose
I'd rather think of you than of nothing at all
Perhaps you are my valentine.
****
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC