The emotions flowing from a nip on the paper.
Work as a connecting medium which carry profound meanings and contentment.
Sometimes flicker due to uncertainties.
Sometimes sheds due to overflow.
It is non toxic but can warp the things that can't be of no use.
Just a pigment which shows the real colours of life.

Some things are too whole
to be spoken.

A look.
A breath that almost turned into speech.
The way your shoulder moved
  before the apology
  that never arrived.

We speak so much
  just to hide
  what we actually feel.

But the unsaid -
 it sits quietly
 in the space behind your teeth,
 in the silence between names.

It doesn’t fade.
It settles.

I remember the pause
 more than the sentence.
The moment before
 you almost said
    “don’t go.”

But didn’t.

And that
  has echoed longer
    than any goodbye.

What we don’t say
 doesn’t disappear.
It becomes
 the resonance
    beneath everything we do.

i didn’t touch her.
 but the air
  between our hands
   folded
    like it once did
      when closeness
        meant undoing.

she left
 before the door shut.
but her presence,
 a tilt
  in the chair,
   a wrinkle
    on the bedsheet
remained,
 louder
  than any word.

you don’t forget
 the scent
  of not-touching.
you carry
  the warmth
   that never reached
    your shoulder.

i didn’t say goodbye.
but the room
 still hears
  her silence.

—

I want you to open me carefully,
like a new book.
In half.

Slowly dragging your fingers across my center.

Before
you start reading.

"Murmur of Whiskers”





In pre–dawn hush
you pad across linoleum—
soft paws tracing the map
              of my half–dreams.

                Your quiet breath
becomes a tethered prayer,
stitching ragged edges
of my nightly fears.

              No need for words:
your calm is the benediction
       that steadies my pulse
before the world awakes.






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