The chaotic silence buried underneath my heart,
hushing the storms to simmer down
has got long lost tales to tell.
A poet has been dead since ages.
Drowned missing her.
The muse perished
with it the intrinsic
art.
Lost
My voice to you!
My voice doesn’t reach you there
But I know you hear it
My screams get numbed
But I hope my silences scrape you
a forlorn attempt to hold you
a whimsical endeavor to outgrow you
my memory poisoning my dreams
your absence obscuring my senses
when sunlight enters, I see
the bright light mocking me.
A voice always calling out to you
doesn’t matter it’s day or at night
Morning is meant to illuminate
not to succumb to dark.
Collecting souvenirs of wretched soul
my voice eventually chokes to death.
Another Midnight poem
Trail of thoughts
Stillness of quiet
Overdue reforms
High-pitched screams
With a muted voice
Here’s #midnight
For you
दुआ (Blessing)
हर वो शख्स जो गवाह था मेरे बिखर जाने का,
तूझे दुआ दे गया किसी ओर को पाने की…
——–
Each one of them who witnessed me crumbling into pieces because of you,
Beseeched God to bless you with someone else.