क्या थी गलतियां मेरी क्या कसूर हमारा था
मिजाज़ तुम्हारे बिगड़े दिल तुम्हारा आवारा था

मुझे क्यूं तोड़ ले कर गए थे बताओ साथ अपने तुम
दिन तो तुम्हारे अच्छे थे किसी ने तुम्हें पुकारा था

ये जो कुछ कर रहे थे तुम ज़रा तो फिक्र कर लेते
थोड़ा खैर करते तुम मुझपर हक़ तुम्हारा था

मुझे तो थी ख़बर आख़िर के मेरा क्या हीं होना है
प्यार तो था नही मुझसे मैं तो बस सहारा था

मुझे तुम छोड़ जाते थे ये जिस इंसान के हाथों में
वो जाते हीं तेरे कचरे में मुझको फेंक जा रहा था

अब बस हुआ प्रवीण ना लो अब इम्तिहां मेरी
पूछा आज गुलाबों ने के हमने क्या बिगाड़ा था ..।।

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🌹Pretty dead roses🌹

I wasn't a cactus though,but still i was a pretty dead rose.
Not dead but still out of hope,i wanted to grow.
Watching my world falling apart ,but i was still dancing in my own destruction.
Bcoz life doesn't come with user manual or course of instructions.
Embers can be still use to relight a fire ..
Then for sure, life can also be a preety good satire..
I know i will catch the flame again.
Right now life has been a bit tired,but soon my soul will be on fire.
Life's a pure bliss,gratify it an admire
You all know it ,so why i am preaching to the choir.
Because death comes unannounced,it doesn't enquire...Anytime any shroud could be your attire.
Its okay to feel low for a while,
Its totally fine to shed tears,n gaze blankly in the night sky.
Just try to whoop it up a bitt,a bitt
Bcoz The clock is ticking,time flies ..ohh shit,ohh shit
So eat drink rave.
Step out n fucking celebrate.
Because life itself is a luxury ,what more would u crave,
An its an humble request,BE KIND.
until you go to your grave....

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Some Dead Roses Still Carry The Fragrance.

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Roses Are Dead

Violets Are Dying

Outside I Am Smiling

But Inside I Am Crying

😭😭😭😭😭

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The dead roses,
Reminds me of those complete love stories which had thrill and excitement in it,
the faint smell of roses and death curses the heart to relive those memories again,
hiding those roses in the book and staring it at for hours and the colour of rose draining from it and adding to the cheeks reminds me of how something needs to feel dead so that other can smile a little bit more,
the staple rose is mere a message to our heart and a memory to our soul,
it forever stains our heart and always reminds us of those wonderful cherishable words which we don't want to forget at any cost because even if someone goes, those words and this dead rose will always accompany us with our journey of dreams and memory...

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Withered leaves
on which you scratched my name...
Dead roses,
yellow ,red and white
amalgamation of lethal scent...
I snugged all these lifeblood
under my lashes...
I can't let it flow ; after all
it's all replica of "Yours"

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She killed the love inside you,
He strangled the little left in my heart.
Here we are trying to fit in each other's life,
wishing for the dead roses to bloom.

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How could I threw those broken cups,
They help me to recall how I exchanged them
when you walked to the counter for cookies.

How could I dispose those dead Roses,
Even I know what confusions
your heart went through to choose between Yellow or red.

Truly, I love those broken cups and dead Roses,
Believe me,
Nothing is certain
Except the moment we live for.🦋

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A plucked away dead rose
becomes a beautiful
love proposal!
Destroying one to
give life to another is a
conventional disease indeed!

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Some dead roses,
Still carry smell,
Some broken hearts,
Still carry love. 💝

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