I’m not a morning person,
And I’ve never liked birds,
But today I sat outside
With my coffee in hand.

Yeah, it was hot,
But the heat felt good on my skin,
Like the sun was embracing me
As he rose from his slumber,
Like I was the first thing he reached for
When he woke up.

The breeze swayed the grass gently,
Carrying quiet secrets in its sigh,
And for a moment I wondered
If mornings had always felt this kind,
Or if today was just different,
Because I finally let myself enjoy it.

It was a good morning,
My thoughts finally at ease.
I’ve always loved the sunset,
But watching the sky fade
From cool blues to warm hues
Felt special in a way I didn’t expect.

i came across this post today—
it asked me if i wondered
what would be the best place to leave my heart—
even if it's bits and pieces, like shells in the sand.

made a list for my own peace,
but here to share it, if you seek to leave a piece
of your own:

the sea, people claim, carries the tranquil
and provides the cool;

the empty temples and churches,
where your heart prays and reluctantly admits;

graveyards at night,
protected by those who left their own behind.

libraries and dusty old bookstores,
in between the pages and caskets of the used shores.

sun-dappled shades of yellow, green, and orange—
once settled, the purples and pinks of the similar hues.

gardens of thorns and flowers,
the sleeves of your last lover;
knots of the willow trees,
in winter blues and heated blooms,
risky texts during the night,
with strangers i met online,
in midst of late monsoon showers,
not to miss out the midnight hours.

a few bits i leave
in the misty mornings of the early summer,
the drenched evenings of the spring shimmer.

the company of my closest companions—
in the fur of a cat,
the nip of a bunny,
the smile of a pup,
sometimes in a sunset,
in the lush green of the forests,
often in the foil of the autumn trees.

mostly on my bed,
in my tear-filled, forsaken pillow,
and against the one i sleep so dearly.
plushies and teddies,
keepsakes of childhood memories.

with all those i've met so far,
and cookie crumbles at the footstep of my life—
for those who are welcome
and those who are not.

i have left, and leave, a lot more pieces.
i wonder if my heart is a cake-a-piece.

Our worlds are not the same
You are preparing for a role, and I try to show up for life.
You want to change the country and make it a better place,
And I strive to find peace and live another day.

You want the respect, the prestige, the satisfaction of doing it all.
I just want to exist and breathe without giving up once and for all.
You’ve had a goal since you were nine, a vision etched in your mind.
I still don’t know what I want or how to truly grind.

You are the golden child, and I, the black sheep.
You did everything right, and I… ever do anything right?
You got the sought-after degree from the most difficult college to get into.
I, too, went to a sought-after college, but not a sought-after degree.

You’ve proved your mettle more than once.
I’ve never had a chance — nor did I want one.
You plan your whole career in advance.
I go with the everyday ebb and flow of life.

You are the calm, chill guy with a great social life.
I am the sometimes anxious, often flustered girl with hardly any friends.
You are the light of the party, and I, somewhere in the shadows.
Yet our worlds met and collided.

You chose to see the me I hardly saw,
Believed in me when no one did — not even I.
You saw the light that I never could,
And were there on days no one else was.

You were literally there for me on my darkest nights,
My knight in shining armor, bringing in some light.
You kept me from consuming myself and believed in me
When hardly anyone ever saw any glee.

You brought out a side of me I never knew existed.
It was just like a Wattpad story — just a little twisted.
For it ended sooner than it lasted,
For you left, long before I wanted.

Those days, I used to think you were replaceable.
But how can someone ever replace a part of my soul?
A place that you’ve taken — and is yours.
It will always be yours, whether you like it or not.

How do I tell my heart a different tale
When it’s already accepted you in every part of the sail?
How do I replace my anchor — and where do I find one —
When you chase your dreams, and I try finding mine?

Why are things not different?
Why are you not in my life —
The way I wanted, the way you promised?
Because I need you more, now that I am my calmest.

I was a jigsaw
scattered,
shattered,
tossed
in the wind—
each piece crumbled under your fingers.

You carved your name
in every break,
laughing
as you chipped away.

Me, broken,
lost,
stumbling through the ruins
like a ghost who forgot
how to haunt.

But something happened
in the silence
in the stillness
after your words were echoes,
after your hands stopped touching me.

I found the parts
you left behind.
Not fragments,
not trash—
but light.

You broke me,
and I broke too,
but I’m not fractured,
no.

I’m reborn,
from the cuts
you left
to the curve of my smile now
sharp,
fierce,
like glass.

You thought you destroyed me,
but I wear the wreckage like armor.
Handsome?
No.
I am more than that.
I am a fire
that burns
and never dies.

i don’t think i ever truly left the girl i was.
there are still small pieces of her everywhere i look
her scissors under my pillow
and her posters on my walls of the sad music she used to listen to
i think she left her antiseptic cream somewhere
maybe under my bed
or in my closet like another one of the skeletons
and sometimes i’ll replay her playlists
not to become her again but to remember what i lost in her
some precious part of myself
i’m desperately trying to grow back-
rebuilding it
from her eyeliner
and her blood-stained tissues
the marks she left on my body
and the marks she left on my heart
everything she took
and everything she gave

If i could weave the words of love for you on a fabric, the unending stitching of your name will be fluent in the language of my heart's rose is lighted with the devotion of your glance that is ablaze, touch me closer now, oh brooding one of the night, for I am your moon with the healing light.

someone said,
“at least now you can heal.”
but healing feels
like folding laundry
for a house that’s half empty
and pretending it’s enough

Smoke slithered skyward, a silent silver hymn,
Like snakes of sorrow where the light grew dim.
My body, bruised, crept low through war’s refrain,
Yet my heart rang loud in the hush of pain.

The grass, like velvet, welcomed weary skin,
As pines above swayed slow in sacred spin.
The heavens stretched — a canvas washed in gold,
A breathless scene too wondrous to be told.

The Sun emerged, a monarch on his throne,
Scattering sapphires where the wind had blown.
Each blade of grass wore jewels like a bride,
With dewdrops dancing, star-like, side by side.

“Steal them!” stirred the mischief in my chest —
But peace, not plunder, filled my soul with rest.
The fields lay still, like hearts in silent prayer,
The world — a whisper held in morning air.

A single drop, like love, fell on my face,
A gentle kiss, the sky's forgiving grace.
The breeze began to hum a nameless tune,
The clouds gave way, and rain became a boon.

Each dewdrop held the story of the land,
A mirror forged by time and nature’s hand.
They gleamed like thoughts too deep for voice or ink,
Then vanished softly at the eyelid’s blink.

I closed my eyes — not sleep, but soul’s retreat,
Wrapped in the warmth of dawn’s unfolding beat.
Even as darkness tried to claim the day,
The dew kept shining — soft, and sure, and gray.

And I, though broken, found my burden gone —
Bathed in the beauty of the dewy dawn.