We are poets.
We bleed in verses,
And leave stains
On paper and hearts.

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I'm weaving a pashmina
from the golden threads of our conversations,
adulterating it
with wool of lukewarm love
and much detested opinions.
I'll add the colour teal
that'll remind us of peacock blues,
sad and beautiful,
like our past and future.
Now let's stain it,
rip it,
cuddle in its shreds,
comfort ourselves,
undress each other
and crawl under this layer of warmth
until the day when one of us
smells summer in the air
and pulls the pashmina away.

-

You know sometimes empty dairy is good than the dairy with the stain.

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लोग कहते हैं कि चांद में दाग है, अगर चांद में दाग है तो सबसे खूबसूरत कैसे हो सकता है और अगर खूबसूरत है तो उसमे दाग कैसा

-

My 8 word poem.

She celebrates holi monthly.
They call it periods.

-

Everytime
I try
to bury you
in words.
It stains
the pages of
my life.

Leaving
the smell
of your memories
like fresh
blood;
Maybe you
are still in
my ink.

-

"If you don't miss your childhood, why do you wish to be a child all over again?"

"Stains were on my shirts when I was a child, I could wash them away. Stains are on my name now, irreversible."

-

Success will taste sweeter
If stained with sacrifice..

-

A kiss on my blood stained cheek?

-

The imperfections
in my poems
just mimic
my life.
Get close
at your own risk,
my wounds
will stain you.

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