There's so much I wanna tell you. I think about you everyday. my letters are white, but they dig deep and make my eyes water. This is what being away from you feels like. my heart feels like a home of yours more than it has been any of mine

A thousand times have I said it to her and to myself: the most beautiful is also the most sacred. And such was everything in her. Like her singing, even so was her life.

You don't know what it means to be loved by someone who's tired, someone that despite their inner bitterness, they try to love you with all the sweetness in the world and despite all of the chaos that lives within them, they tidy themselves up for you.

Missing alive people sucks, like we could actually do something about this but whatever

Mujhe ab nahi likhna aur nazm,
main thak gaya hu.
mujhe pyaar kar, mujhe chhoo tere hathon se.
main tere hathon ke taraf dekh dekh ke,
thak gaya hu.

mujhe maut kyun nahi aa raha,
main jee kyun nahi paa raha.
tu kyun hain itni zaroori,
main tere liye zaroori kyun nahi ho pa raha.

In dreams she's mine, in reality she's a dream.

Vice versa

I'm such a slut for casual intimacy. Like yesss rest your chin on my shoulder while we're in line at the grocery store, I live for that shit.

To look into her eyes is to be bathed by the warm winter sunlight

How brave your heart must be
To stay soft and tender still
When you've given and given
Till you're emptier than you've ever been

Under the blanket of cold moonless night
all-encompassing canvas brimming with stars
i was asked to speak about your eyes
i said your eyes are effervescent and infinite
I was stupefied and silent,
me being the man of words, how ironic!
what use of words against the beauty?
i simply raised by head towards the sky
pointed my fingers to the pole star and uttered
“this is how her eyes are look like, maybe she is made from the same fabric”

Out of all the flowers, you

If I can just hold on to you in a way that, not even air can come between us

Masculine urge to hold your hand as we walk through a bustling bazaar, to buy you traditional jewelry and help you wear it, to help you prepare us a dinner, to share a sweet dessert like gulab jamun with you, to sit with you under the stars on a cool night, to tuck your hair behind your ears, to put flowers in your hair, to open the door for you, to make scrunchies out of real flowers, to dry your hair, to trace your face with my bare fingers, to watch you holding a chai cup and admire you, to take you on a long drive through the bustling roads.

i think they wrote your story in glitter gel pen because there's no way you were written in just regular old ink. your eyes lace beauty into every flower bed and words flow from you with grace unmatched by even the grandest poet.

i know God has no favorites, but maybe there's a chance he was tempted to choose you

I guess love works this way. At first, both of you believed that you were compatible, that you two were a match made in heaven. But most of the time, it isn't. Along the way, you will learn that people change and that's normal. It is not because they don't love you anymore, or they love you less compared to those times when you're just starting. It is because everyone is not always lovable.

There are days that we want to give up on them, that they are annoying. There are moments that they seem unnoticeable, that they look like any other people in a crowded street.

But maybe, that's the magic about love. Even with all the struggles, with all the people around us that are easier to love, with all the humps and rough roads, we still choose them over and over. I believe that's beautiful.