Soft absorbed in the tough.
I can see hair, due to be shaven, standing on my arm.
When light from a faint source hit my glasses.
It feels like a spotlight on all the self-inflicted gloom.
My corner is eating me up.
But I’m too tired to be anywhere else.
So wait for circumstance to push me.
Till then I rest ( push ) against the wooden side
Of my corner.
Tell me its okay
Dreaming about the future
To get past the present
Patience was never my virtue
So tell me if its my vice
to try and imagine
A place where I want to be
Someday, Any day
Tell me it exists
And I will get there
I will live and breathe it
Just as I wish I could now.
Focus to blurr
Rub away the strain
And set of fireworks
So noiselessly colourful.
Rest your eyes, darling.
They are tired of scrutinising every inch of your skin
Like it was expensive wallpaper
You wanted to slap on every wall of your room,
Forcing your stringently perfect aesthetic
Onto every visitor.
If we could feel and not see
Then wouldn’t we agree
That the shape of a smile
Is vastly more beautiful
Than the colour of skin?
Its all about
And dancing in circles
like little children in kindergarten trying to keep up
With the increasing tempo of the song they sing,
all in different notes, varying pitch, but in unison nonetheless
If one trips
The rest slow down
So he can get back up,
Laughing it off like he meant it to happen
And the others join in while dancing together in circles again
Because that is what best friends do.
Auron se kyun chupke rehta hai?
Deewaron ke peeche se jhaanke
Kyun mann hi mann tu rota hai?
Unko khulke hasta dekhke
Kya tera bhi jee karta hai?
Jab woh baarish mein naache jhoomke
Tu chhate ka bojh kyun uthaata hai?
To be or not to be
I can’t fathom this dichotomy
I don’t flip a coin
Options were never mine
Is there a yes to a no?
My highest is still low
I see mirrors not glass
Light hits but doesn’t pass
Doors close, none open
Heard everything, never spoken
Your path has forks
Both frequented roads
I dig a tunnel underneath
Looking for a way in between
Wrapped up in warm fuzziness and reading perfectly normal literature, thank you very much.
Hot, milky tea with just the right amount of ginger, glazing my palate like raindrops on my bedside window.
Applying the same non-sticky moisturizer after a hot shower and smelling like myself again.
Cheese popcorn buckets and lemon mojitos remaining untouched till a movie starts.
Studying maths in the middle of the night for its beautifully simple coherence and knowing I won’t be graded for it.
Newly bought black nail paint gliding on my perfectly filed nails with James Bay in my room all to myself.
Watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine on repeat and seeing my Bakerstreet Boys in action.
Looking at the pristine white dome of the Gurudwara on my way to college and offering a silent prayer.
The truest thoughts of my introverted self stored anonymously on the World Wide Web.
A handful of people with whom I can live on a deserted island forever.
Meditating early in the morning like its the only thing that matters in life.