Mai udaas ho jaun to muskura vo bhi ni pata
Ruth jaun usse kbhi to mujhe manaye bina vo rhe bhi nhi pata
Meri khushi ke liye sari hdd paar kr deta hai
Ek vo hai jo mujhe apni jaan se bhi jada pyaar krta hai
Yu to bahot ladta hai mujhse
Par mere bina use chain bhi kha aata hai
Baat na karun usse to vo preshaan bahot ho jata hai
Kbhi-kbhi mujhe vo moto bhi bulata hai
Par jis din khana na kahun to sare lecture mujhe sunata hai
Meri khamooshi vo seh nhi skta hai
Mujhse dur vo kbhi reh nhi skta hai
Pyaar to bahot krta hai mujhse
Par ye baat kbhi keh nhi pata hai
Khud to mujhe kuch bhi keh de
Par kisi or se mere baren mai kuch sun nhi pata hai
Chota hai mujhse par baaten bado ke jaise mujhe smjhata hai
Han vo mera bhai hi hai jo mujhe ittaaaaaa jada chahta hai
LOVE YOU INNNNNAAAAA SARAA BHAI❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
She’s not the definition of perfection
As she studies her reflection
Her green eyes growing lifeless as time fades
Behind the innocent smile, lays words that go unsaid
She endlessly cries tears
Upon the fall of night
There is no one to help in sight
There are pieces missing,
Pain and tears
Surrounded by self-conscious thoughts and fears
Countless times what she thought
was truth became a lie.
The nostalgia is building inside.
Walking each day,
Acting like everything is okay,
But as life goes on
She’s hurting more in every way
She whipped her own skin
And confused her cry with her laugh
She smiles with all that she has left
Yet tears are left un-dried
Although she’s got so much to say,
She bottles it all up inside.
A frost bitten air she breathed
And she liked it
Deeply inhaling the nothingness of her delusions
Nobody really knows her.
They only know her cover.
But she wish she could let it free.
Let them know what's under.
Sometimes If someone is really close to us and if that person leaves from our life it feels like a dream.
It feels like everything shattered in a second, It hurts all the time.
It feels like we can’t even breathe.
In such a situations how can one stops tears from flowing,
And how can one think everything’s gonna be okay.
It feels like there is no happiness in life,
every single day is hard and every moment is a punishment.
In such situation how can one laugh out?
We even can’t understand what’s goin’ in our life,
Is we literally fine or Something is killing us from inside.
That feeling is hard to tell someone,
It hurts us like hell.
I hold your hands and make circles on your palms with my fingers and call them galaxies.
The one on your left hand is milky way and on your right hand is andromeda, and the space between both your palms is the light years that put them apart.
You join both your palms, covering the distance of light years in a fraction of second. I laugh. I tell you that, I want to be one of the stars of andromeda’s halo, for they are much younger than those of milky way.
But I am a black hole, the graveyard of stars where the gravity is so strong that nothing can escape, not even light and thus people can’t see black holes.
I am afraid of this gravity, for it squeezes everything inside of me in this tiny space from where nothing can escape to where nothing can reach.
And I am the black hole, Even on the days when my interiors burn like a star. You shake your head hopelessly, tired of me, maybe and tell me I am the whole damn universe.
It is 5:30 a.m, the sun is rising you ask what colour I see, I say orange, yellow and red but you see the mixture of them. I think, I think too much.
You ask what is horizon to me ? I say the apparent line that separates the earth from the sky but you say, The apparent line where the earth and the sky seem to meet.
I draw flowers on the floor with my fingers and you say they're beautiful. You like the yellow one and red, too.
I ask you to shut up but you put your finger on my lips and hush me, saying they're blooming and growing on the floor and the walls and the roof and within a few minutes the whole room is full of flowers, Roses, daffodils, orchids, You pluck one of the roses and put it in my ear.
It's 01:00 a.m, We are on the terrace, I ask you what do you see? You say, Moon, Stars and the Sky. I say, YOU.
I ask you to put your palm over mine, For the first time I see the horizons meeting and galaxies melting into each other. I see light. Tonight, I shall be the universe.
When I met Niara for the first time, she was sitting at the corner of the park, beside a swing and was writing something in an old rustic diary.
Niara, for her 9-year-old brain, was too intelligent. Her maturity levels crossed above the tenderness of childhood in her eyes.
"You are supposed to sit on the swing and not beside it. Right?", I wink, pulling out my earphones.
She signals something with hands which I could vaguely understand, but I realised she said she feels sick on swings. Niara was dumb, I figured out.
The next week, I met her was again at the same spot with her diary. I give her chocolate this time and she coyly accepts it, sliding her short curls.
I ask her what's this diary and she writes something in it that read: "I add new words to this with my own definitions.." For the rest of the summer, I and Niara made this habit of meeting at the part. I used to gift her chocolate and sometimes I gifted her pen sets.
She listened to me as I told her about everything that happened in my 19-year-old life. Since I don't understand her sign language much, so I took the speaker position.
An old man used to come to pick her up who never spoke to me. He just smiled and Niara waved a goodbye. Monsoons hit India and rains poured like prayers of mothers for their families. The park was closed, and I missed Niara very much.
I never asked about her parents and where did she live. I prepared her some mixtapes hoping she'd love my music.
The park opened after the season and I rushed into it on my time. Niara wasn't there. I visited every day, but she never came.
One day, I met the old man and asked him where's Niara. He took me with him to an orphanage. There she was.
Niara, sleeping on a bed with an oxygen mask and machines around her. Her head shaved. It was cancer. Last few days left. The old man gives me her diary and says she asked him to gift it to me.
"Open it when she's gone", he sobs, handing it to me.
Niara goes to the final sleep. I sit by the corner of the park and open the diary.
The first word was: Happiness(n) — Meeting Bhaiya in Park.
There are times when I pick up my phone and dial your number, but fall short of words when I am just about to call. There are times when I try listening our old song, but just when it starts playing, I take my earphones off. There are times when I look at the sky and wonder how beautiful the stars were when you were around.
I know you keep asking yourself, or may be stopped asking yourself why we didn't work out. But trust me, it wasn't you. You were right every way, right from the start of spring to the end winter, you were the perfect one all through. It was me, it still is me. You were a boon, you probably were like a rainbow but I wasn't the rain you thought I was. I was like the storm that blows of houses. I could win a war against rest of the world with only you on my side, but the war I was fighting was with my own self. I know there are nights when you stare at the ceiling and wonder what went wrong, and trust me I do the same. But for all I know is I was tired of looking myself at the mirror and hate myself a little more every passing day, for not being able to love you the way you deserve. I couldn't continue putting you through all the miseries everyday, I couldn't see you keep lying to our friends when they asked you if you are fine. I couldn't keep holding on to a love that I couldn't give back. I saw you were losing your faith in love, and honestly, I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't afford you to lose that shine on your face every time you read a love story. That is why I stepped aside.
I know your soul crushed into pieces to see years of efforts, compromises and love go in vain, but trust me I didn't want these years to last for a lifetime. And I am a coward, I don't have the courage to know how much I have hurt you, that is why I use backspace every time after dialing your number. I know you hate me, but I honestly don't want to know how much. Because in my very own ways I did care for you and no matter what I did, I always meant your good.
And no I am not defending myself, I never will. Not a single night goes by when I curse myself for being the way I am. But may be it is just that I don't have in me what it takes to love someone. I just wanted you to know that you deserved much more than someone who did not even have enough love for himself. And even if it is not love, I wouldn't hesitate to burn my soul in the darkest of hours just to see the smile on your face.
My writings are fragmented in many pieces My mind asks what do you write about? I say that I just split my feelings, Can You tell me, I write about whom?? I write about the dark day Or write something about light night A day in which my feelings cannot be seen, Just keep wandering in a circle of darkness apprehensively !!
And on other side, There is a night, with which I talk openly, in which my suppressed feelings come out like smoke My pen has divided my emotions And I have a question What do I write about?? Do I write about that childhood, But I wrote my today in that childhood Then how can I say so !! In that childhood, I wished to travel entire Lilliput. When I was in third standard I asked my mother, Mummy, How nice it would be If the rainbows appear in night Ahh , what a beautiful sight it would be !!! When I used to use my pencil as a magical pencil Shaka laka boom boom, In a hope that, something would come out of it, Was that my stupidity??
And sometimes I tried to fly like Superman, by making an apron of my mother's scarf Oh, Was I writing about myself right now?? I don't know !!
Then What do I write about Do I write about the river, A river which is bounded by shores, And wants to feel winsome independence!! Whenever I used to go at a religious place with my parents, I was afraid of bathing in the river, I saw that no one was drowning, Even then I was afraid And used to cry , Oh No, I'll drown !!
Hey, Was I writing about that river ?? Oh No,How can this happen !! How can I write on the river !! How can my ink stick on it !! A lame cracked itself And Inner me: Oh crap, a lame's up!!
About a bride or about a groom Can someone tell me I write about whom ??
Sometimes, I write about that mother, On whose lap, I experienced Jurassic Park, Oh, I am going wrong again I can't write about her because, she made me !!!
There was a pen having hueless refill She wanted to write me on a beautiful canvas She filled that refill with her blood And wrote me with pain She's my mother !! And that's the reason behind it that why I can't be her mother!!
After all what do I write about About a lover and his beloved?? A lover gets transformed into Poet, And When he describes his Poetry
The way you You hold my breath I can't analyse !! And when some of my scattered rhymes try to describe your death, I feel a scorching heat As someone dragged my heart By a sharp sword, And somewhere, I'm also like a broken claymore!! Either you are the charm of the moon, A moon which in phase of waxing crescent Or like an angel landed softly on me after traversing several skies Can someone tell me please.... How can I describe those oceanic eyes !!
Poetry whispered silently!! What ??? hehe, Silently whispered And Therefore, I didn't hear that !! Ohh, I'm writing about poet But, How can I write a poet??
What do I write, about My college life Or my college and my life ?? Do I write about those frequencies, Which similarities causes resonance, Or about a line, containing a number of dots !! Do I write about that lab and Lab Assistant prevents me and my friends from entering in it like a resistance But We have to go. Do I write about my life ?? The life, which is like Palindromes Sleep !! awake !! sleep !!
What the hell do I write About you ,whom I don't even know About dreams, I have not seen yet About those elations, I never felt About the mind, rapid as wind About those flowers which never bloom Or about my feelings, broken in to pieces I don't even know, I wrote about whom !!!