My silence hums only your name,
soft as a prayer, wild as a flame.
And all that the world calls imperfect in you, is the very art my soul clings to.

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When your hand wrapped around mine,
life learned how to smile for the very first time.

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Wrap me in your colour, hold me through the hush,
a love that speaks in stillness, not in rush.

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She was a Shiuli in a world of roses,
blooming in silence under moonlit skies, falling with grace before morning knew her name, yet leaving the air drenched in the memory of her love.

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She loved poems, but he loved how she became his, each glance, a verse, each smile a rhyme.
In ink and affection, their old school love
blossomed like a timeless sonnet.

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We are soulbound, our story is written in the stars.

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When you are here, pour your heart’s whispers, and I will be waiting, to write the tale of us, one word at a time.

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When their eyes met for the first time,
her smile lit the dusk, her bindi shimmered like stardust,
and even the crescent moon paused,
knowing a new story had begun.

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She is a healer, not with potions or spells, but with the quiet magic of her touch.
Her smile mends the fractures of my soul, her voice soothes the storms within me. And when her lips find my forehead, the world fades, leaving only love, only peace, only her.

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They mistook her for a quiet whisper,
but she was the whole story.
Not just a moment in ink,
but the pen that rewrote it all.

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