He resides in her subtle eyes
In the form of ..,
Memories , love and hope ;
Immortal and untouched .
She wears it as her jewellery ,
And you Wonder how
she reflects the serene .

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ମତେ ସାହିତ୍ୟ ରେ ରୁଚି ନାହିଁ
କିନ୍ତୁ ମୋର କିଏ ବନ୍ଧୁ ନାହାନ୍ତି ।

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You have your life , living and spouting

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IT'S A PURE BATTLE
AND REMEMBER
YOU ARE A TRUE WARRIOR

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Don't be tired dear self
There's a lot to ship
Just one more time
Make the way and rise
And see what you reap

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Will you sell me your throat in
exchange for coins

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Sundays were merrier when I used to eat watermelon and think it will regrow inside.
Sundays are related to summer afternoon when you have time but not the clue what to do .
I believe that they are meant for corporate break in a week ,though banks and hospitals fancied them the least .
Everyone out there waits for their favourite ott show to release every week or a sneak out date plan ,
Instead of the family time or wash your clothes and clean the house day .
Well Sundays are outdated ease missed by few .

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Sleeplessness and

a little stress

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Commitments to endeavour for a deep rooted reason behind it .

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•Unseen colours of love•
When I first saw you , a million miles away , I was at a corner of the universe
Looking for some company maybe
I probably don't remember but ..
you were sparkling so madly in love with a girl ,your lover ,
Not so perfect but passionate ,
I saw you so broken ,rageful , jealous and realised all the colours of love .
Overwhelmed, drastically collapsing towards you ,
I ought to land here to witness sprightful pigments which sure weren't yet buried .

A little more jealous of me and disheartened,,
finding a way out to capture all the shades you'd shower .
though I really want to sleep tight in that shed of colours and
I believe in serenity of colours hence you dear perfect .

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