2015, in poetry

empty enough is life,
without the added hassle

of temporary highs, and

cheap thrills.



perhaps,


fingers entwined,
heart tight in grasp,
the love we hold so dear,
hoping to (some day) give
is not quite as 

beautiful
as ‘tis 
dark



all these fears, I just made up
'tis, but one simple truth

that I miss them



crippled with feeling,
I wonder in awe...
at those able
to move



all our week's worth of sun,
with them, they took away

'it's a cloudy day
wake up, it's a cloudy day'



where do I take,
this heart of mine
that breaks as such

along with which,
of everyone else



pretty pictures
of unpretty people



there is a way, in which
incomplete people complete
those that are already complete,
much like complete people
complete those that are

incomplete.



holding hands.

perhaps the softest
(my favourite) feeling
in this whole, entire world

to find one though, (steady, warm) 
worth the hold (and many more) 
the quest of all quests



not everyone,
is for everyone



for how long,

can we spend our days
by the night light

open your door,
to the sun.



Europe,
and the sun.



the intensity
of my intensity



oh, so cold
my fingers hurt
but the heart,
'tis warmer

is that a ray
I see?



four dollars
and a whole lotta'

hijab



well-dressed
insecure men.



all beauty exists
(for the sole purpose)
to remind you of hope.



geography,
is all in the hearts

meri jaan.



paintings of water,
water paintings

of water



dil kay tuutnay mein bhi 
jaisay hai, aek anokhi

mithhaas.

jo miltee hi hai, 
kahin khoee khoee,
kuchh andekhi si...

kaafi arsay baad



duur hum kahaan huay. 
duur toh aapnay, 

humko, 
hai kar diyaa



pyaar toh, 
saaray hi sachchay thhay.

jhhuutay toh insaan hotay hain



sapnay hi toh hain,
phhir say daekhh leingay

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