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At the end of our lives we only remember two types of people : those who give us oxygen and those who leave us breathless.
अगर बेपनाह मोहब्बत ना हो किसी से, तो जिंदगी कितनी खुशनुमा हो!
She was a love poem, written at 4 am in the darkness of the hour, when sleep was too far away.
The books in my shelf
The books in my shelf,I can hear them whispering seems they are scared,That I won't open them anymore My diary among them spoke the loudest Because it's been too long,Since i embraced my palm.The ink bottle is still have the same essence but it's dried now And pens are covered by dust.I don't know because this wasn't,I ever wanted maybe this wasn't the stars destined.I let it be, it was me who choosed things,to let go this way.But today I've made this poetry,You must have found yourself between the lines.I wonder how you get connected anyway.maybe again it's me who let it this way.and not the stars who destined.
Love just happens. It just flows, as swiftly as water.It's nothing coercible, or can be forced. It finds it's own course.
Love is neither easy nor difficult. Love is beautiful. And it looks more beautiful when you're in love with the right person.
"Some people are artists. Some, themselves, are art."
घर बिखरने लगा, मकान बनता गया!
"I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. But this time it felt different, this time it felt final. Like i would never see him again, or that when i did, it would be different, there would be mountain between us."
I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. How you decorate your room. The way you drink your tea. How your writing looks. Everything. Art is the most beautiful thing in this while world. Art has no rules. Art is freedom. Art is being as to bend things most people see as a straight line. Art is just another way of screaming. Till death, we do art. The EARTH without art is just EH.
जुटा लेते है सामान ख्वाइशों के..समझौता अरमानों से नही होता साहब...❤️