Your Heart is a Balloon

Your heart is a balloon, 
floating on gentle winds, 
lifting with every smile, 
and drifting through the night. 

Fragile as a dream, 
it flutters in the breeze, 
but with one sharp prick, 
it may fall to its knees. 

Yet it floats, 
untouched by doubt or fear, 
finding new skies, 
new winds to carry it clear. 

It holds hope, strength, and love to spare
— unpredictable, precious, a burst of light in the air.
 

Brew him a love potion

In the quiet corners of the night,
I gather threads of candlelight,
A pinch of warmth from autumn's air,
And whispers soft as a prayer.
 
I pluck the stars from evening skies,
And weave them into secret ties,
With petals from a rose in bloom,
To fill his heart and light the room.
 
Touch of laughter, shy and true,
A trace of all the things we knew,
And honeyed words, both sweet and soft,
To lift him when his spirit's lost.
 
I stir with care, with gentle hands,
A potion born of time's demands—
Not magic spells, nor witch’s art,
But every beat of my own heart.
 
For love, I know, is not a brew,
But still, I’ll make this gift for you—
A sip of trust, a taste of grace,
To remind you of my warm embrace.
 
And when the world feels far and cold,
May this potion make you bold,
To know that, always, love is near,
In every whispered word you hear.
 
 

Endless Echoes

Loss fades, day by day,
like footprints on a shore,
washed gently by the tides of time.

Yet love—love lingers, unwavering,
a whisper in the wind, a warmth in the dark.

We fold our grief into quiet corners,
tucking it between laughter and light,
but love—love remains, unshaken,
woven into the fabric of who we are.

They say time heals, but love never needs healing.
It does not wane, it does not wither.

It stays, even when hands no longer hold,
even when voices become echoes in the air.

So, we let go of sorrow, piece by piece,
but love—love, we hold forever.

Brown Eyes

Pretty. Don't get enough credit.
Described as mud, dirt, or chocolates. Mundane.

But brown eyes are Gorgeous.
They aren't even brown. I feel it copper blend honey.
Like sunlight through a bottle of whiskey, color of the earth after it rains.
Hazelnuts. Gingerbread men. Chocolate brownies.
It makes me feel wrapped inside a blanket on the sofa having cocoa or tea or coffee.
Feels like Cinnamon, ginger, and cassia.
At times the dust from a horse's hooves.

I've heard people compare eyes to oceans.. galaxies...
But hers reminded me of all my favorite things.
I glance at the cup of coffee in my hands and look at her brown eyes.
I probably feel more awake with her.
It's so beautiful it blows my mind that people think it's common and boring.
Those brown eyes in the sun.
I had never noticed it at first,
but soon I noticed that 'brown' was not what her eye looked like.
It was like those golden rays melting into the eclipse.

Brown eyes are beautiful. They turn into a whole sunset of their own.

People are Different

People are raw. 

People are messy and complex. 

It's so easy to look at someone and assume you've got it all figured out. But stepping out of that comfort zone, moving forward, looking in on people. Through their hearts and their lives, every quirk and disaster that built them, that takes strength. A strength so many people are scared to reach out for. Different is good. Messy is beautiful. We are who we are, and that is no little feat. Existing together, acceptance, that's the point of it all...

Too Often I escape to MYSELF

I make a home out of my own body.

I feel safe within my own skin.

Sometimes I travel far away from my body 

Its quite a journey to come back.

On some days lights will mislead us on roads 

we are not supposed to roam. 

Darling, just sometimes, here and there, 

let the darkness carry us home.

And once I've made it back,

I feel the whole world is my home.

Being MYSELF in my DREAMS

Somewhere, in the middle of the night,

As I sleep with the windows open

Letting those breezes caress my face

Healing my soul,

I fly without wings.

I love the ONE & she loves me back,

There's no one to cut my wings

Or shoot me down by their words,

Neither is there anyone to stop us

From loving each other.

At least,

I'm being MYSELF in my DREAMS! 

Monster in me

I look at my reflection and don't see myself,

I see all of them who made me.

You slam your body against me

Reminding me I'm alive.

The monster in me is always hungry,

and remember I'm just few steps behind you.

She came for the monster in me.
I touched him.
Twisted his stars within his shadows.
I had become her nightmare.

But little did she know,
She was looking for a twig in the forest.

Better a Monster, than an Arrogant God

Bleach Me Clean

When I was little my Mum called the bumps in the road sleeping policemen.

Early one morning I went out frantic with a spade,

Tried to crack the cement where I thought they were buried.

My spade couldn’t slice through the concrete, 

And I imagined them struggling to breathe under the ground.

I spent hours crying because I knew what it felt like to be trapped as well.

 

Every week my Dad took me swimming and I let my body float.

It was the place I could be a paradox:

By that I mean Holding my breath was the way that I knew how to be alive,

By that I mean That I was a graph looking for my coordinates

By that I mean I was a sky looking for my constellations I was just a person.

 

I was looking for you

The only way for the ache to stop

Was when my lungs turned static in the blue.

 

Now I am older,

my body sings when it is submerged

I am underwater:

Being with you is like;

Diving underwater and the Blue is impossible and the blue it surrounds me:

And the chlorine burns my eyes- And bleaches me clean.

 

Losing Fear

I was taught to mold words 

which were not to be spoken off.

I used to breathe those dejected words 

to my lungs in and out.

My mouth is against a war with the ribs. 

Now I speak, but my hands are still trembling.

 

I had broken my bones,

bend them to stars and then the shape of the sun.

They were so beautiful,

I then turn them into stone walls

just to know that they are strong. 

 

I cracked the glass against the wall.

The shards of my heart, sharp edged with glory.

Mismatched, mistaken and mislead.

I am whole, apart and in-between.

Sidequests

We are sweeping dust off 

our live's now with our bodies.

We are tethering our vast emotions to the boats of life.

We slow our walk to the threshold of ecstasy.

Sweet surrender, that breaks empires, that opens the dusty doors of archives for the winds to move ancient texts.

How does a kiss alter the world.

How does a hug wake the lion of loyalty in us all, 

while the stone crypts crumble, 

And buildings made of mortar weep with indifferent ghosts.

We are born to a dying sun, 

as we dream to a rising moon.

Our existence is arbitrated by a rhythm.

Our bodies, altars for the numen's passion.

You at Three

 The first time you cried 

You were three;

Tripped over a small rock and cried endlessly;

Second time you cried, you were six;

Your playmate stole your toy and you cried endlessly;

But now,

You cry endlessly through the night at 3am.

Thinking whether to make it or not.

One Day of Life

 [Here in this poem, I am a girl in heaven. I imagine that I have been given a chance to visit back earth]

I have got just one day to live on earth,
One more day is all I wish.

Tell the time to go slow,
And not too fast.

I missed the time which passed away,
I wish I could get it back.

I wish one more day, I could gain,
I wish I did not have this pain.

I had always dreamt a future with you,
I just want to live a day or two.

But as I have no other choice,
And the only choice is to survive,

You'll have to leave,
I'll have to go.

The time has passed,
Yes... I'll have to go.

Decoding Thoughts

There's no magic in the process of writing,

Words are just open wounds with no intentions of getting better.

 

There’s this collection of madness in my head.

If you get your hands somehow on them.

Please respect my words,

As I am fragile.

 

So if you want to write like me.

You'd have to get yourself sick.

You'll have to puke yourself onto the notebook.

You'll have to carry others regret, but never yours.

 

I have no idea of how much of this is poetry.

But I know the difference

of a poet and a sick person.

The latter pays to control his sickness,

And a poet gets paid to become her sickness.

 

The first time I wrote,

The sky was full of fire

And my lungs smelled of wet blue-black ink which was begging to dry.

 

I learned how to give my soul a name that fits.

I learned how to take that river-clay within my heart and make it into something.

I learned how to look into my eye

and say "there's nothing frightening here".

 

Everything’s a work in progress:

Art, belief, knowledge and even myself. 

Ethereal

I can take you there..

I can weave words and create a portal to anywhere.

You can visit those places instead of just looking out the windows.

But I envy an artist.

They can show you the exact emotion worth thousand words without even writing a single one.

When those nightmares turn out to be true.

He smelled of cigarette smokes

And blasphemous nights.

He wasn't my kind of ecstasy,

But that night my demons were restless.

Nightmares were all I had,

All they wanted was a midnight party,

High stakes all Or nothing.

Sweet dipped Lie

I slept on a wolf’s skin. I needed that camouflage.

A sorcerer whispered in my ear spells of terror and licked my wounded lips.

Those remained dark moments in my life,

The thirst for blood, for transgressions and crimes.

The wolf dwelled inside my echo's, and in time, I devoured my knowledge. 

I unveiled like a primitive beast puffing fire and ice.

Paint me as a Villain

I painted my nails as you told me about her.
I didn't want to bother about what you told about her.
Cause all I wanted was the in lines of your jaw.
I wanted to kiss you,
Like the rain kisses the rooftops.

Trust me,
I really don't care of anything but the touch of your lips.

Not me, AGAIN !

If you have a lot of money and you don't know what to do with it,
Please don't spend it on me. Just don't.
Cause I can't afford to pay you in return.
All I can give you are my thoughts,
My rants, My lame jokes,
My presence, My smile,
And that might not be good enough for you to stay.

If you have a lot of time and you're planning to waste it,
Please don't waste it on me. Just don't.
Cause even if you give me just half of it,
I will give you my all.
Even if that means losing sleep,
Or working overtime,
Or coming home late,
And you might just be wasting time,
While I'm investing it on you.

If you're looking for somebody to love,
Please, let it be somebody else. Not me.
Cause you might not be sure, despite all your efforts.
I can't accept a half-hearted love though I'm not rich,
Or pretty, Or intelligent, Or talented,
But I can give love back 100 times more than I am given,
Through songs, poetry, and art.
And you might be looking for something other than that.

So please, please, please,
If you have anything, don't give it to me. Just don't.
Cause I can give you the universe and destroy myself in the process,
But it might not mean anything to you.
Cause you're just looking for someone to spend you're money with,
Waste you're time with,
While you're unsure if you're ready to love again.

Please, not me.
Not again.

MayBe

Everything is relative.

What is truth for you,
Might be a lie to someone else !

Perspectives vary,
Endless assumptions.

Facts are exclusive.
But we don't seek facts,
We seek comfort.

Maybe our existence is superfluous,
Maybe it is not.
Maybe we are all alone in this universe,
Maybe we are not.
Maybe there is maybe,
Maybe there is not.