Out of my exile, I wrote you in verses,
And I forgot — even poems cannot return what history steals.

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Nigaah milti hai, par lab khamosh rehte hain,
Dil ke jazbaat bhi andar hi dildosh hotai hain.
Kash wo samajh leta is khamoshi ki wajah ,
Ke bechaini sirf mai nahi, wo bi Kuch saaz main rehte hoge

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Mujh se bichhad ke woh bhi na raha hum saafar,
Main bhi kisi rahguzar ka qissa na bana
Ishq tha, shayad ek khushfehmi thi,
Woh bhi mehmaan tha, main bhi wafa na bana

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The Cartography of Love

Love is not merely a feeling, but a cartographer’s dream—
Mapping hearts in constellations unseen.
It is the river that forgets its name in the embrace of the sea,
A firefly lost in the moon’s silver decree.

It tiptoes like autumn on a summer’s skin,
A paradox, a whisper, a tempest within.
The wind sculpts silence between two souls entwined,
Yet echoes their longing in verses undefined.

It is a manuscript written in tides and time,
A quill dipped in twilight’s rhyme.
The sun surrenders its gold to the dusk’s decree,
Just as hearts surrender, wild and free.

And oh!—to be in love is to dissolve like mist in dawn’s quiet call,
To be both the mountain unshaken, and the leaf in its fall.

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Yearning
She moves like a shadow at dusk, silent but present.
The air still carries her scent,
like damp earth after rain.
I sit by the window, watching the
trees bend in the wind,
and wonder if she feels the
pull the same way I do.

Nights stretch longer,
the stars dim behind clouds,
and the world seems quieter without her voice.
She was never loud,
but she filled the spaces,
in ways I never understood
until they emptied.

The moon finds the places she once touched,
turning them silver with its cold light. She was warmth;
now, I hold only echoes, and
the weight of words left unsaid.

If she turned back, would she see
what I see?
The footprints she left are still here, not in the dirt,
but in the air, in the quiet,
in the way my heart still leans
toward her absence.

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Dead Soul

A candle flickers, choked by unseen breath,
A wraith that lingers in the arms of death.
The hollow winds now hum my last refrain,
A broken harp that sings but feels no pain.

Like painted smiles on masks of crumbling clay,
Or dying stars too far to light the way.
A body walks, yet dust is in its veins,
A soul long lost in time’s unyielding chains.

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Lost Boat
A boat adrift, lost in tides of longing,
Crashing against waves that whisper your name.
Storms howl like unanswered prayers,
Yet love clings like a shipwrecked soul—refusing to drown.
Your words, raindrops slipping through trembling hands,
And my heart—a desert, thirsting for every drop.
I am a poet, every verse a wound still bleeding,
But you—a story that never found its ending.
Fingers slipped, but fate’s cruel hands still weave us,
Night falls, yet the moon still questions your absence.

Your love—a restless passenger in a sinking vessel,
And I—a shore that waits, knowing you will never return.
No land ahead, no solace behind,
Just a cursed voyage—forever adrift.

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Kuch Maslah Aisa tha
Suno
Mohabbat thi
Ek kahani thi
Silsila tha
Sukoon tha
Bharosa tha
Zindagi thi
Zinda tha
Zindagi main jaan thi
Aur wo Jaan Tum Thi
Phir kya hua
Mohabbat bhi gai
Kahani bhi miti
Silsila khtm hua
Sukoon bhi gaya
Bharosa bhi utha
Zindagi bhi gai
Aur wo jo jaan thi Na
Wo jaan bhi gai aur wo shaan bhi gai

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Tumhe chaha tha ek dua ki tarah,
Aur tumne mujhe ek ilzaam ki tarah chhod diya...
Ab na mohabbat ka gham raha, na bewafai ka dukh,
Bs sirf ek sawal hai , tum meri thi bhi kabi kya?

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Kiya tha jo tujh se ta’alluq ishq, to ye gumaan tha,
ke tu bhi kisi nayab ki laazim shanakht hogi...
Magar afsos, tere har lafz ka wazan jaanta raha,
aur tu sirf ek be-mani dastaan nikli...

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