A smile so innocent,perhaps sold at just a cent

The eyes of pure joy,even without a priceless toy

Even when the eyes couldn’t see, the end of this vast sea

Yet,the world,seemed so full of colour,
Even tiny little things,bloomed like a flower

An endless dawn,without being a pawn,
I wish I could go back,being a hopeless fawn

Funny little things and stupidity allover,
I dreamed I will go back,when the simulation is finally over

The definition of genuine-
Why couldn’t I find it in the ruin?

As the end was near, the story of "fear"
As if something got strucked by a spear,making the moon never so clear

The picture of a setting sun,crying for one last fun
But nothing could stop the time,wishing for a final,harmless crime

Untill the end of times,the dawn of eternity
May this piece,again and again,find its destiny.

I sit silently in a class, not exactly paying attention, but not drifting all the same.
I am stuck in that space, just before dissociation, just before conscious thought.
You still plague my mind, many years after you're gone, like you did just after the day you came.
You and I, against the world, nothing would stop us, our friendship was wrought.

I'm still in class, thinking of you, slipping away, like I always do.
I remember your hair, the purple I envied,
your manic eyes, constantly frenzied.
Your crooked bottom teeth, the rings that you wore,
your pretty singing voice, the way that you swore.

I know our memories are far and between
I wanted nothing more than to be seen
revered
loved
by you

I hope you remember me
as you are somewhere new
I hope you remember how
I loved you.

The teacher has been calling on me, my class is snickering
my head is filled with voices again, constant bickering.
It isn't the first time, and wont be the last,
that I get stuck in my head
remembering the past.

The breeze ran cold last night
Under raven duvet, memories went gray.
In empty hills where my desires lay;
Rain flooded my rationale insight.

I was cold even before the winds blew,
And rain came—an obligation too.

When the room is empty,
and the people have left
and you’re waiting, wondering,
what will come next?

A haven of memories,
long phone calls and late-night dances
hard work and parades of tears
then left with hardly a glance.

So many firsts
trapped in one room
the thoughts and the feeling,
stuck in its loom.

It’s no longer yours,
the decorations pulled down,
bare and barren just like when you moved in,
might never have left your hometown.

our first photo was taken
sometime in nineteen ninety-three.
two toddlers in nappies,
neighbours, before we had a word
for what we’d grow to be.

inseparable.

weekend mornings started
at six a.m. beneath blankets.
eyes heavy, pyjamas warm
with your brothers half-asleep,
watching cartoons in the dark –
argai, the lion prince
and some other world
that promised we’d never grow up.

half a life was spent
with football, martial arts,
scavenging, and video games.
but a universe opened between us
when you moved away –
only a few streets down,
where the brink of manhood
said, no girls allowed –
unless.

so i went on
carrying your absence.

years later, our parents
arranged a movie afternoon.
it was a hundred minutes of silence
and small flickers of a conversation
that mirrored who we used to be.
i thought, maybe.
i thought, still.

but the closure i sought
was a door shut in my face.
as if fifteen years
of childhood were a secret shame.

it still hurts
to dream you colder
than you already were,
and carry a reminder
that you don’t have a say
in when and how things end.

How I love rainy days,
The sweet fragrance of petrichor fills the air-
So mere, yet satisfying.

Under the blankets,
The rain hums its soft lullaby,
And I sink into the tightest sleep.

Rain pulls me into thoughts
Drifting between nostalgia and what-ifs
While silence quietly dominates.