I miss your voice. I miss it. I miss everything. I miss you. I really do but the question is “do you, too”?

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Let me be your peace,
and the reason for the silence of your chaos.

Let me be the 3am and the shout in the void,
or rather be your scream on the nights quite.

Let me be the the thing you never avoid,
or rather be your future which looks so bright.

Let me be the verses and hymns you weave,
or rather be the poem so incomplete you always leave.

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Wrong person’s right words will ruin you more than right person’s wrong words.

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जिसे नस़ीब में लिखा नहीं तूने खुदा,
उसे क़ोरे पन्नों में लिख लेते हैं।
यकीऩन इस तरह कुछ हक़ हमारा भी हैं उन पर ।।

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Sometimes, all we wonder is if we are falling in love with a person or with their words.


-Story of every WRITER

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You give me peace. The peace I wish I can put into words, but I guess, a blank paper would do more justice.

-complete excerpt in caption.

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कुछ सिलवटों सा औड़ा हुआ था जरुरतों कों जिस्म पर,
कमबख़्त बेवजह की ख़्वाहिशें बेहया बेलिबास कर बैठी ।।

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हंसते हंसते तोहफे में, अपने हिस्से की खुशियॉं भी नज़र कर दूँ,
एक बार फिर से आ ख्वाबों में, कि तुझे खुदा कर दूँ।।

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She didn’t expressed.
He didn’t understood.

P.S.- That night (He) is now 1 year old.

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