Functioning depression is suffocating. I smile, work, and pretend I’m okay, but inside, I’m sinking. I’ve worn this mask so long no one sees I’m barely surviving. I can’t ask for help because I seem fine. But the moment I’m alone, it all crashes: emptiness, numbness, silence. I isolate because it feels safer than being the “too much” girl. But truth is, I feel abandoned. Forgotten. Alone. And no one even notices I’m fading.

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Love is sacred, a holy art, not a binding contract.
To truly love is to honor the other’s soul, not possess it.
The ultimate state of love is absolute freedom, a space where both souls can grow, breathe, and evolve.
Any relationship that stifles this freedom is not love, but control.
Love liberates. It does not cling. It does not cage. That is the work of ego.
Real love sets you free, to be fully yourself and still be held in deep, sacred connection.

-

as I wrapped my legs
around his spirit
pulling him into the
hunger of my soul by
letting him thrust his love
in fierce aching rhythm,
each movement striking a chord,
composing the wild,
desperate symphony
of our endless souls
devouring each other whole.

-

This is a message from the heart of every Indian Muslim. What happened in Pahalgam is heartbreaking, innocent lives lost, and a heavy cloud of fear, grief, and anger hangs in the air. But let us be clear: terror has no religion. The bullets that took those lives were not fired by Islam but by cowards who stand against humanity. Still, we find ourselves blamed, targeted, and painted with the same brush by people we call our own. We are Indian, we are Muslim, and we are exhausted! Exhausted from constantly having to prove our loyalty, from being held accountable for crimes we openly condemn. We mourn the loss just as deeply, we stand with the victims, and we seek justice, peace, and unity. But we refuse to be treated as outsiders in our own country. Do not let hate win. Do not let terror divide us. Stand with us, not against us. India is our home too, and we will protect it with our voice, our truth, and our love.

-

Arms and legs splayed wide,
offered, open,
slick heat trailing down
her gleaming flesh.
A sharp cry, then silence
as leather snaps
against aching nipples.
She arches, breath hitched,
eyes clamped shut,
starving for the next blow.
Her skin flushes mauve,
trembling beneath the sting,
and with a slow, deliberate bite
to her lip, she dares a smile.

-

hunger has burned
through you for days,
tongue deep, lips desperate,
devouring every pulse.
Make me arch, make me beg,
make me drown in you,
until my body is nothing
but a trembling, breathless plea.

-

Her lingerie, sheer as moonlight,
clung to her curves, whispering desire.
He burned with need, hardened by hunger,
ready to claim his queen.
Her moans, a symphony of surrender,
awoke the devil inside him.
Boundaries blurred, sins turned sacred,
as he worshiped her with reckless abandon.
Their bodies spoke in fire and frenzy,
a storm of lust, raw and untamed,
until the beast within him
found release in her depths.

-

desire unleashed,
A fire courses,
fierce and untamed.
Pleasure and sin
bleed in a dance,
Until I fracture,
lost in the abyss.

-

heat drips from my skin,
sweat pooling in the hollows,
slick and desperate.
A sharp flick,
my breath shatters,
nipples aching, begging for more.
Fingers trace welts,
pain blooming into pleasure,
hips arching, surrendering
to the endless pulse.

-

Relish my ink of pity,
like an old wine, as you
fall in the wilderness
of my chaotic mind,
which is spiraled
into insanity.
As I'm a mere prey,
devoured by your
passionate lust,
undress me of
my insecurities,
make me succumb
to the throne erected
by desire letting my soul
unravel like
luscious raindrops
melting into the night.

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