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On occasion, the sky loses its usual grace, dressed in a coat of gray and gloom. It ceases to resemble that painting that holds your gaze, instead, appearing rather plain and drained. Perhaps the clouds scatter haphazardly, birds fly closer to the ground, or the sun fails to caress your lids just right. It’s not
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I shift between anger and empathy; sometimes all in one breath. Sometimes, it feels like he’s the villain. Other times, he’s just a boy in pain. Sometimes, I can’t believe how easily he can alter the shape of us. Other times, my man’s just acting in shame. It’s as if every possibility from every parallel
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Am I standing alone? When I look in the mirror, I don’t see anyone. Run. Is this who I’ve become, in order to please everyone? The world looking down? Now, what do you need? I see yellow, red. I read yellow, pink. Now, what do I know? Are you the sun or their dream? Or
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Always looking up, wondering about the mysteries the sky might reveal, finding comfort in the solidity of buildings, or simply watching leaves dance in the wind, poetic journey of contemplation. Yet, it’s just a space within your mind, decorated with leaves, buildings, and places you adore; it’s your mental home, where you return to wrestle
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We are living for the days filled with promotions, proposals, affirmations, and celebratory beers. Yet, reality often serves up ordinary days, where gym tardiness, missed opportunities, lost wallets, or flight mishaps prevail. Life’s blend of highs and lows, all stirred together in one pot. We’re just trying to beat the odds by breathing!
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It’s choosing to hold on; choosing to reset what feels finite. It’s tiring, this quiet ache, To keep asking you to care, To tell you I need holding, While you’re barely even there. No worry when I’m struggling, No call when it’s late and dark, No flutter when I walk in, No missing me when
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Where do I go? And when? Do I stay? Just watching.. where this path might lead? I plead, Just for a while, Let me sit here, And wait. To imagine what could be, How lovely it might get. Raindrops cooling a burning sky, Crisp sunshine melting the chill. I want to dream a little, Paint
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I’m furious. Furious to be a girl, a woman, to have a vagina, like that alone is an invitation. Why can’t I walk to a bar in a new country without calculating every step, every shadow, every streetlamp? Why do we have to choose between safety and spontaneity? Why do I have to share my
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I’m letting my hair grow, my body shrinking as my demon grows. Yes, I’m letting that demon swell, swell to the point where I water it, to the point where I can listen to it, cry with it, accept it, and not neglect it. Why blame it, when you can tame it?
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Praying for a Miracle Today, I fought with someone in my family. Not because I said Pahalgam was justified. Not because I denied the loss. Innocent lives were taken, that truth needs no debate. We know who’s right, who’s not. I just shared a very true-to-my-heart, unpolished thought, That we’re lucky. Lucky enough to sit
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Clueless Ink 