and i thought yellow was for the sunflower, who knew that the star herself wears it beautifully too.

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Heart of gold, lips made of silver,
Were you always so materialistic?

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You air invites my poetry.
You are my every reason to write.
But I fear yet await the one ode
That will be written in your name
For the very last time.

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Friends of past,
Snakes of present,
Dead in the future.
Fake people
Never needed a funeral.

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When I'm with you, infinity stops behaving like a mathematical concept.
I feel it in my veins when I look at you.
It mimics you when I can feel your warm breaths on me.
It becomes 'Us' and everything I feel is happy.

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To all the writers and poets out there,
If you can make the paper bleed with your sword as pen then why not there be stains?

Kuch daag ache hote hain.

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Posted on Mirakee..

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Fate
A brothel of tears
Everyone has shed
While only a few were sold
At expense of hope.

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Some lines were never drawn straight.

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Brown!
(Poem in caption)

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