Don’t just hear,listenwhat one wordwhisper to other,Here, all the words areadjacent yet farhow they managed to exist,I wonder. Also, Instagram

I’m dying poetry

In his Letters to Milena, Kafka wrote,‘You are the knife I turn inside myself;that is love. That, my dear, is love.’ And I can’t help but wondernumber of times I ate my own skinto feel your touch on my lips.And number of times I died,trying to reason with unknown.In search of words I travelthrough myContinue reading “I’m dying poetry”

If I was a writer

If I was a writerI’d write you love lettersperfectly foldedin the scent of windhidden under the silk sheetsfrom me to youit can be a gift.And I’d dip my pen in your hairto check the length of your curlsand to steal the ink from you;Your skin is a rainbow.And I’d steal all your worrieslike the rainandContinue reading “If I was a writer”

Pockets full of Cosmos.

Those honey coated eyes were the “okay.” to every “okay?” I used to throw, when sheets used to haunt me In search of rhythm, to him I used to go. The one named after my favourite colour In his smile I used to see the rainbow, Every mountain was his own and every stream heContinue reading “Pockets full of Cosmos.”


Your heart was a hurricane soul was a vast sea, I miss the old times when your words were free. Layers on layers of impair what have you become? Let me hear this story sit here, come? Talk to me, tell me where all of this went wrong? I’m here to listen even if it’sContinue reading “Autolalia”

A letter to Death.

Not a trigger alert, it’s more sort of a love letter. Makes sense? I am actually writing this letter to narrator of ‘The Book Thief‘ by Markus Zusak. (For writing this book, Markus Zusak have a part of my heart) It’s obvious to fall in love with characters, but here, I’m in love with narratorContinue reading “A letter to Death.”