Let's say,
we met how
the earth meets
a shooting star.

A bit of
you broke,
a whole of
me burnt.

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If kisses didn't exist,
love would feel like
poetry without passion.

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They purify themselves passing through you.
Their unwanted attributes now your residue.
You filter them but you're in vain,
Once you're used, replaced again...

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शून्य!!

(पूर्ण कविता अनुशीर्षक में पढ़ें।)

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I rent old houses
because just like me
they were once home
to someone,
and we both need
someone to make us
habitable again.

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Poetry is my first love.
Poetry is my last heart break.
So, it's okay for me
if my poem doesn't rhyme.

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Hindi

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Some conversations induce poetry,
Some conversations are poetry.

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