Poems are tired.

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Ours is a love of the old town,
the smell of revolutions
and wars.

My body is swollen,
these bones in me, pains.
The history of bleeding alone
is long and vivid,
but love, your eyes is where
my soul is lost,
you are older than this pain,
and older than this memory.
I've seen you before,
𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡
perhaps I'll see you again.

~palkita

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Let me thank you.

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— % &

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• Gurudeva •— % &I breathe in, and you're in me.
I breathe out, and I'm in you.
I close my eyes, the sun sheds by,
But you arrive; the eternal sunrise.— % &The language in pages fail,
my heart knows the truest one.

I sound and words
when sight looks for you,
music keeps walking along,
words walk only a mile.— % &in scriptures that do not say,
in beliefs that are only in "say",
a moment with you
even thousand miles away,
the galaxy prevails
in the feets that you lay.
— % &and the birth that I have taken
is to die, but for you.— % &

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तुझे इस तरह से नहीं खोना था।

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T H R E E H E A R T B E A T S

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My sky is half.
One part speaks of me,
the other is me.

~caption

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B U T T E R F L Y

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A R T

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