ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ.
ᴡʜɪʟꜱᴛ ɪ ʙᴜʀɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴇʟʏ ᴡᴀɪᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ.....

-

"The Algebra of Almosts"

You live here—
in the hollow of my throat,
a fossil of *almost*
that I swallow like oxygen.

Every dawn, I inhale you,
exhale the ghost of a name
that tastes like a cut
that never learned to scar.

Revenge is a matchstick god—
it burns the hand that strikes
before it ever lights the pyre.

Now the ashes are ours to keep:  
a museum of what we torched
when we mistook fury for fire,
and the wind for forgiveness.

Memory is the bruise
that outlasts the blow.

We are cartographers of wounds—
drawing maps to graves
digging with trembling hands,
still clutching the shovels,
still calling it "LOVE".

-

"Dil ki dhadkan se nahi, khamoshi se pata chalta hai,
Mohabbat ki gehrayi kitni hai, sacchai se hai imtihan.
Ishq hai toh sawal kaisa, aur nahi hai toh jazba kaisa?"


"Tere bina zikr hai, tere saath hai sukoon,
Mohabbat ki raahon mein, hai mera ghar kahan?
Dil ki dhadkan se poochh, kitna pyaar hai mere dil mein,
Tere liye hai jazba, ya bas ek khwaab hai milne ka?"

-

Don't try to hide your Pain
Let the pain hurt you more
Until accepting the Truth
Finally sets you Free....🕊️

-

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭

-

𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞
T𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞
Y𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐠

-

You're more than a MEMORY
I'll always hold on to,
Even when the
Worlds have moved on.
Even when I get
To rest peacefully
On my final Sleep

-

Janaab, Ishq ki raah bhi ajeeb hai,
Kisi aur ka sikhaya huwa ishq
Aksar kisi aur se karna padhta hay.

-

She was beautiful
But not like those Magazine Covergirls.
She was beautiful
For the way she thought💭
She was beautiful
For the ways her eyes mesmerised me;
When she shared details about the things-
She loved the most in her Life.
She was beautiful
For her ability to see,
The bright side in people and
For making them Smile,
Even when she was Sad herself.
No, in my eyes she wasn't beautiful only
For something as temporary as her Looks.
She was beautiful
Deep down to her Soul.
Wherein etched the beginning
Of a story untold
Which was yet to unfold....

-

QUAINT MEMOIRS
She was my sirenum, my Medusa, my irresistible undoing. But unlike the mythic maiden who turned men to stone with a single glance, her power over me lay not in her eyes, but in the enchanting cadence of her voice. It was an aural tapestry woven from threads of PURE LOVE, each word a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of my Soul and erupted goosebumps on my skin.
Her voice was my Achilles' heel, the hidden vulnerability that laid me bare and helpless before her. It was a divine music that awakened a deep longing within me, a yearning that threatened to consume me whole. I was a shipwrecked sailor, drawn inexorably to the rocks of her rejection, powerless to resist the siren's call of her voice.

-