Velvet sheets cradle the
weight of our wants,
As shadows mingle,
weaving tales untold,
A tapestry woven with threads
of our moans,
In the heat of the night,
both tender and bold.

[ In Caption 👇]

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Perfection creates time;
With scars and flaws we
are already timeless.

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each petal folds
secrets never told.
fragile truths layered
under color and scent.
we bleed when
we peel too far.
but haven't we?
our memoir...A forever gift.

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you are the calm before summer’s
frenzy—the balance between rest
and anticipation. You remind us that growth doesn't always have to
be loud, and that beginnings
can be soft but still strong.

Thank you for the gentle nudge forward.

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"The winds of fate howled,
'You will fall to the storm.'
With fire in her eyes,
the warrior answered,
'I was born of the storm—
It does not break me,
It is me.'"

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The canvas of wait
turned yellow and
then brown,
but the fragrance of
Hope is still pristine
and celestial.

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whisper a euphoria,
their murmurs woven into
the fabric of our hearts.
Those fleeting days,
now confined to shadows,
were built on the fragile
promise of forever.
The simplicity of those
moments now dances
like fireflies.
Memories have become
a soft echo of unfulfilled desires,
yet their warmth lingers.

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Love is that flame,
unyielding, bright,
A dance of shadows
in the deepest night.
Soft as whispers,
tender and mild.
Through storms it surges,
constant, true,
A force that bends
but never breaks in you.

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You arrive like a whisper.
There is something delicate
yet resolute about your
presence—like the quiet
rustle of a leaf that falls
not with a heavy thud,
but with a soft, lingering caress.
March, you are the paradox
of promise and patience,
holding both the bitter chill
of lingering frost and the
faintest scent of awakening earth.

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* Regret scores
higher than
social media
in killing time.

* Our past is a
maze without an
exist door, and
inspite of us we
are a regular
walker here.

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