The melancholic waves washed off the sand beneath her feet, Wobbling off the damped pit She was struck by the trails of defeat, A flurry of air tangled her silky hair while she brooded her journey to the stars that …
Friendship means being together in both weal and woe. Friendship is the umbrella to protect you from the scorching sun. It is the only means to keep you dry in a gale. Friendship is not a friendship that alters like …
A rural lady With her ten year old baby Comes in the market Wearing old chappal in feet and ghaghra- lugdi on body While daughter in salwar-suit Both are walking on the road Without any fear of heat strokes of …
I saw you on a winter’s evening Standing on a edge of a cliff Cheeks painted rose red shining your eyes glistening with tears As it trickles down your cheeks What did you see over the ledge Was it a …
Do you know The secrets I keep? The one’s up there Wrapped so beautifully In bows and trinkets Feathers and vice And they never tell me twice So I can never forget The look in her eye And the fear …
“You’re beautiful”, He told me, And I buried my face into his neck, Smiling, content. “You’re beautiful”, He stated, as I sighed, And dropped back the jeans, That didn’t fit me anymore. “You’re beautiful”, He panted, his lips on mine, …
The lights are out again, There’s shadows lurking around, No monsters beneath my bed, But corpses underground. Sleep feels lazy tonight, It mourns at the night’s shroud, The Darkness is out to embrace, And foul blood makes it proud. Portraits …
I don’t see a tomorrow, I don’t feel your kiss on my forehead. I don’t hear the whisper of my name, From your sweet lips. You don’t reek of whiskey, And empty promises, tonight, And it scares me, Down to …
Fingers tracing the paths of droplets, My weary soul wincing in pain, A rainbow cries tears of colours, Leaving here a mark, and there a stain. I’m trapped in this void, Where touch is too sensitive to be roused, Where …
So, he was the perfect kind of beautiful. Flawless, like the flowers, he brought me every week. He was like the pretty metaphors, That dance off your fingertips onto paper, and the slow songs you make love to, On a …
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