My breath

Running up

Running up

I’m panting

I’m tired

I don’t know

If I’ll ever reach

The finish line

I’m climbing

I’m climbing

Up so high,

I don’t even know

If it’s worth the while,

But with you I will

Always feel

The breeze surrounding me,


like oxygen

under the sea,

My sun

In the darkest nights

Yea,a sun,

I’m in love

I’m in love ,my breath!

rather a crush

Is loving that easy?

Do people really give their heart to somebody?

I tried, I did

Got hurt, bruised so deep.

Are you calling me selfish?

But why the point of saving myself,

When he should be the one shielding?
Or we all float in some agony.

A mistake, a sin,

Labeling love when it isn’t .


I used to think love heals.

Seeing more of the damage than

the healing,

I’d laugh it off.

Call it another crush.

But love?

I’m afraid I wouldn’t dive for it at least,

Till ,at least,


Let me not talk about it.


Drenched in his rain. .

Crystal clear,
shapes and forms
Us together
my eyes behold
every colour, the shades
so bold,
an aura-
sparkles like gold;

Sixteen years old,
when we don’t know
What’s going on
just know to flow,
until you stop
and sink really low
but then,
we still learn to float;

Dark evening, nights
you by my side
our breaths mix,
in quiet atmosphere,
surrounding us a
thousand fireflies

You smile at my tone
the voice, I hate the most
Oh baby, please don’t go
I was insecure
Now you’ve build me so strong,
let us pay what it is worth for!

I remember how it felt,
like a child even when its was cold
Snug, the tape I’d play
on and on. .
Don’t you wish to be back there anymore?

Morning time,
fresh air ,blossoms, aroma, too nice
You were there for me
Have nothing left, good is gone

A perfect love story
don’t end this way baby,
our lives-
clean, not a dark spot
take my hand and dance,
forever and more!

Sixteen years old,
not too intelligent though,
have whole our lives to be stepped on,
Don’t you want that feeling back?
Two years old,
charismatic air?
A perfect love story, don’t
end it this way;

It’s in our hands
to erase ,what stains
the goodbyes, ignorance
we can fix it up again,
no tough word ever spoken
easier than many of them ,there
bare it all for once,
I’d do the same
text you late night
steal food from your plate,
hold your yellow towel
all so perfect,
just this time,

with words
I’d really wanna say!

Who cares!

A thoughtful thought or some sort of a theory, had struck me really hard -a kind of conclusion that completely makes sense and embracing which has mended faults in certain perceptions I held.
Here it goes..
Who cares about the past? And why care about the past? ‘Past’ here includes both the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ ones.
Now many of you (if not many, atleast a part of me that’s ever ready to contradict a theory I propose to myself to believe in)might suggest on how sometimes, ‘our past’
helps to remind us of days when we were someone else or when we used to work so hard . . blablabla this and thats. Ofcourse our pasts are rather examples which are the most inspiring and convincing ones , cause these are the examples set by us ,ourselves. However, I guess, we’re missing important technicalities regarding ‘acting under defined circumstances’ .
First, think of that time in the past which you look up to now, what was the source of inspiration then?
Second, which is rather an implication of the previous statement, the present circumstances are so different, which not only includes the materialistic world around but also you, as a biological system whose chemistry changes quite a bit with time and age. Nothing is in control dear!
There is this idea I strongly believe in, and if you’re a one who gets disturbed and feels helpless sometimes at such thoughts, it may suit you well.
It is -‘ No one knows your past, no one ever will -cause even you don’t know it the exact way, to precise details-lights and dark days!
Just know one thing, don’t kill the present.
Don’t kill yourself by not living at the moment!’
Maybe at the age of eighteen , you’re naive and don’t much about life;
yet I do carry a theory that says-
“Every moment is a life, don’t kill it”