A City of heartbreaks

My being is hanging out with the thought of being myself at almost all the times and the urge to be anything but me.Thought is an act of violence. The urge to be somethingbut me, is the violence against what I am. The urge  to be nowhere but near you. Is it possible for aContinue reading “A City of heartbreaks”

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”

Roads

I looked at him while crying, I knew there was no use of trying. You left and moved towards the wood, And I stood there, like you said I should. Every path I take is black, I wonder if you ever going to come back? Whenever these roads try to threaten me, I wish uponContinue reading “Roads”

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