The motionless, dry leaves
scattered in my balcony
yearn for the winds.
Alone.
Gullible.
Plea to move on
from the desolation.
The leaves are tired of the rusted grills.
Tired of the dust and cobwebs.
They wait to be taken away.
To be blown away.
Trusting the winds, they long to fly.
They wish to fall in the open fields,
Feel the senescence. and die.

-

I stood there at a corner and watched. I clearly recall how torn my state was. A part of me was afraid of being ostracized, while the other wanted to step in out of humanity. The latter me was weak. My limbs denied to volunteer. They were submissive towards the society. So was I.

-

Rain speaks to me of the amber joy.
Wilted, rejected, yet overwhelmed by the aura of life.
Rain speaks to me of the drenched green,
How maidens of the flora and fauna frisk in buoyancy.
Rain speaks to me of the violet compassion.
Immoral love blooms in undisclosed rendezvous.
Rain speaks to me of the smothered red.
Drizzles slowly metamorphosing them into pacifying blue.

Rain speaks to me of every wet color enveloping the earth,
And I listen to them with my obtuse heart.
For my eyes are unknown of rainbows and light.
Impaired sense. Blinded sight.

-

The more I tried
to annihilate
your memories,
the more I found them
absorbing the moment.

-

बदनाम इन आंखों की गहराईयों से
तूने प्यार का दरिया तराश लिया
बेचैन इन जुल्फों की अंगड़ाईयों में
तूने जीने का ज़रिया पा लिया।
क्या खूब इबादत है इश्क की.. देखो
अरे क्या खूब इबादत है इश्क की देखो
बदचलन इस बेईमान जिस्म को
आफरीन तक कहला दिया॥

-

My spirit had undergone resurrection. I woke up only to find myself in a dystopia. A world full of lies. A world full of objections and rejections, of denial and ignorance.

#justiceforzainab

-

When you monopolize
the falling shaft
coming down my amber hair
in the glitter of your eyes,
Bask in the warmth
my sun kissed eyes emanate,
Glean every single glimmer
out of my lashes
preserve them as priced pearls,
Embedding,
embracing them every night,
I fall for you.
A little more.
A little each day.

-

You remained indifferent
to my tears.
Now, they are unwilling
to leave me
when I am alone.
You can't see them.
anymore.
My tears know now
the art of c a m o u f l a g e.
They have learned to hide,
protect themselves
and preserve
their existence.

-

Loathe me
for my silky voice.
My words keep echoing
In you, and your man.
Loathe me.
for my satin dress,
flowing over my skin
as the silent breeze
moves over, kissing,
the smooth surface
of streamlets,
valleys, mountains.
Loathe me
for my carmine pink lips.
Colors stolen
from the petals of
Fuchsia Blue Eyes.
Loathe me
for my presence.
Your insecure leering
speaks not
of how you pity me.
It makes me feel
pity of you. Instead.

• the unholy damsel

-

Who knew,
writing
could be
an addiction.
stronger than
cocaine?

-