// zoning out from blog//

Not writing this week? Want to know what piques my anxiety? Ask me a question.It’s not people that I’m scared of but myself. My words aren’t forced, they come to me, like rain, forming clouds slowly pouring out of my body. My fingers forge the sky and I embody the universe. But I suppose universe… Continue reading // zoning out from blog//

// of fears and discouragement//

The times are hard and my fears keep getting worse. In these fleeting moments, there are things I‘m scared of and care about.And then, there’s me.I’m my greatest accomplishment. I crave attention and validation from myself and write long paragraphs with weird rhythms to make sense of things around.I like to think of myself as… Continue reading // of fears and discouragement//

A lot

You try to hide your womenin thin threads of colourcastand religion.You hide thembehind the shatteredceilings of your sin.And you tell them“It’s for your protection”. You stop womenfrom going out,meeting people,and cover thethick khol of their eyesand you tell them“this is because I love you”. You beat your womenfor having a voice,a right,an opinion,revolutionary sight.and you… Continue reading A lot

The art of holding on

Holding on doesn’t always have to be about people or the stained memories, it’s more complex than what we know. I often leave my poems and pause midway to reminisce the fleeting moments, to find you there once again, which apparently has become my favourite thing to do.I always try to find my face there, try… Continue reading The art of holding on

Poems and women

If my poems were womenthey will love you tillone of us is out of blood,will make flowers out of your fleshand bury the remnants in the mud.They will drag you to the top of hillsand dare you jump off without second thoughtthere must be moments of pretty love but wild hearts is all that I… Continue reading Poems and women

This poem is whole.

I have heardpeople complainingabout writersnot writingtheir whole heart,always tryingto hide some part.And I have seenpeople trying toexplorethe unknown;like writersare not people,like they arenot their own.And I always thinkwhy is that so after all?So hereI’m puttingmy whole heart(with all the pieces)in this poemand nowThis poem is whole.

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 rainand… Continue reading If I was a writer

Strength

Out there I see a worldfull of hope,people with optionsto chose from,who can bewhat they want to be;My street is of the gifted,people with answers forevery “how” and “if”, but me. I was terrible at volleyballcouldn’t even sing,I tried to learn them allyet failed at everything. I put people firstand end up second,not the best… Continue reading Strength

Live a little

I have keptall your words safein the flowers that driedpressed next to the storiesyou left,and the pace at whichyou were running towards sun,I hope somehowyou have learnt to rest.There’s somethingvery primal the wayyour words are building homein my chest now,In distancewe are growing close to each otherand I don’t know how.I know someday we’ll meetat… Continue reading Live a little

You and poems

Distance between wordsis our home. I hang my words on thered thread around your neckand everytime I look at youit reminds me of the factthat my poems and you are one,Talking about chillsI never met anyone like you, none. Your smile reminds me of the skyunder which we first met,and the summer breezetake me back… Continue reading You and poems