Who knows the truth?
(In caption)

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What mirror didn't show : A girl, a fire and a culture watching
(Full in caption)

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Untitled wildflower

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Life, death, and everything in between:
when ink traps you just to set you free —
do you call it surrender or freedom?
(Full in caption)

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The trees and the traveler

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Farewell

I'm not a much of a writer,
Never have been one.
But whatever fragments I have of it,
I want to shrug it off for now.
And for someone who has tasted the bitterness of goodbyes,
in every phase of her life
I know how unpleasant they are,
But are as much a necessity.
(In caption)

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Indigo dreams dissolved into charcoal dust,
No force could loosen the knots we wove,
No arrivals, no departures—only silence.
I tore the fabric thread by thread,
Each pull freeing us from the spiral we spun,
Neither moving forward, nor turning back.
I let you slip away—not for your sake, but for mine,
Abandoning the fragile hope of return,
So I could stop yearning for the day
When you might return to me once again.

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Smoking the ashes of unposted letters,
like your favorite cigarette,
My heart, blue and frozen,
stains the sky with its grief,
making it weep.
A wild, untamed fire raged all night—
Madness unleashed,
a lone psycho killer prowling empty streets.

Feelings abandoned like war-born children,
Starved, hollow-eyed,
lost beneath a fading sun.
Hope, like the dying ember of dusk,
slipped from my hands,
Crimson bleeding into night’s endless blue.

And that, my love,
Is what it took to burn you from my soul.

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The Idiot
By
Fyodor
Dostoevsky

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Keep me somewhere in the depths of your memory,
like a song you hum
whenever an emotion gently touches
the shores of your soul.
And I’ll hold you
like my favorite line from a poem—
one that lingers long after the rest has faded,
leaving behind a quiet echo.
A place, where my emotions rest,
where old ones gently slip away, and
new ones are born,
carrying traces of everything we once felt.

_the last wish

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