Ten million orbs in the sky,
Dissonant in the Aurora of dawn,
Yet she keeps searching for the crescent,
On a moonless night.

Everyday she falls into deep reverie,
Just before he appears,
Glowing strong in the prussian sky.
He likes to be her unmet summit.

The veil in her windows , riotous enough,
Do not let the twilight caress her bosom,
She never gets to know,
He patiently waited, all night.

Without her own knowledge,
She starts loathing the celestial man,
Bit by bit, monotonously everyday.
As her eyes gets adjusted to the dim.

Having lost her vision to the gloom,
She admires him no more.
Luminescence has hoaxed her love,
She breathes her life away in pain.

Her lifeless frame covered in silk,
The white shroud shines bright,
Her carcass lays still under moonlight,
The Celestial God cries in vain.

-

If roses could smell like his perfume,
And could feel like his velvet shirt,
The dried petals inside my diary would,
Tell the story behind our faded love.
The thorns perforating my skin,
The blood oozing out, would signify
The disloyal lover who gifted
Treachery in return of Love.

-

It's sad how much lonely we can feel despite being surrounded by many.

-

The saline vales down the contours of her face,
She covers her visage with earth in the name of self-care.
Like a vine she'd grasp every other in hope to survive,
Fallin' down everytime. Monotonous much.

She'd sing her bosom away, cry her heart out,
Nobody would know, nobody would care enough to know.
Lost among everybody, being a nobody, she'd roam,
Hoping to get discerned, she'd not even get counted among the mass.

What killed her? The world? The people? The demon in her drowse?
Or was it her all along, with her crippling misery,
Miserable enough to drown her in eternity of melancholy.
She'd wonder every insomnolent night in solitude.

-

The epitome of love became the epitome of fakery. What scares me is when I meet people like that again.
Figuring out the flaws, catching every glimpse to see through their conscience,I often forget to notice their good sides.
That wreckage left me nothing but horrifying memories.
I'd close my eyes to stop the visual flashbacks.
But how do I stop breathing to prevent that known cologne stirring up my mind?
Wait, it's not even you, it's just another person wearing the same one, yet it scares me.
I hold myself back, cut out every chances so that I never come across those places we made memories at.
Yet my keypad, falling prey to its habits, suggests your name to every sentence that I type.

-

Pictures are pieces of memories.

-

The butterflies inside my stomach died.
The autumn took over my blossom springs,
The winter turned them into frost.
Left me no words to speak,
No will to elucidate.
It makes my world whirl,
In psychedelic patterns,
Merging into a pin point,
With no dimensions.
I'd just flow in,
Amalgamate with my sorrow.
I'd still cope up with it,
Wearing a cape of lies,
I'd call myself a superhero,
Devoid of feelings,
Savouring every tear drop,
Devouring on melancholy.

-

It starts with mutual consent.
Ends with only one's.

-

হাজার ছবি।
হাজার আবেগ।
হাজার চেতনা, চিরস্থায়ী হয়ে রয়ে যায়।
পাল্টায় শুধু মানুষ গুলো।
হাতে হাত রেখে ময়দানে তারা ঘুরে বেড়ায় ঠিকই।
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-

The contours of her face become the
land through which the river finds it's course. Glaciers don't melt, emotions
do. Her screams become the thunder
and she, the land of rain.

-