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Let our stories remain in a place where Time cannot touch us anymore. Let our stories remain in crossroads.

The Girl You Knew

Sometimes, her memories visit me on lonesome Sundays, when the city around me dims down in silent melancholy and the clouds assemble to paint the sky in white and blue in the sunless wintry afternoons.

Letter to an Old Friend

In all our lives, I think we have been the cruelest to our own selves, our own mistakes, and our own tales. Perhaps this Christmas, we can find some forgiveness, not for our sins, but for all the madness that has been. Note: I apologize for the small font size. This poem is something which I felt that needs to be voiced to each one of us to our old selves. And hence I have tried my best to make it as legible as possible by fitting it into this post. Thank you for reading. Always.

A Beautiful Lie

Is it not strange how life is garnished by moments and stringed together by memories?Here is to the souls that have touched ours from afar and now, only reside in our memories.

Brave and Bold Beauty

I stopped conforming to your definitions of beauty when I realized that your vision was too puny and insignificant to see the beauty I beheld. This little poem is dedicated to every woman who has felt small, insignificant, unwanted, undesirable or anything less than the goddess she is at any point of her life because she tried to fit into another’s perception of beauty. Darling, listen to me: You are a breathtaking goddess and you do not have to fit into any small enclosure to shape yourself into definitions. So, love yourself. Celebrate yourself.

We Were Dreamers

I never found rhyme or reason in us. Perhaps that was why we were dreamers.

Unspoken Confessions

I have always loved that carried secret messages. And in between them all, all I wished was these messages to not remain a secret at all.