Whispers of Heart

It’s been two months since I received your last call, and a second since I imagined your pretty face. It’s completely foolish of me that I could never tell you face-to-face that you were the prettiest, you were the strongest, and I adored you so much. It was always through my poems or the gifts I gave you that I tried to express my love. But I know you knew me—you understood that I am a complex being. Most of my relationship with you revolved around lecturing you on what to do and what not to, when I was truly incapable of even deciding what to wear. I haven’t looked at myself properly in the mirror since I lost your physical presence—because I’m too afraid to face the you that lives in me. I’m afraid because whenever I used to turn away from the mirror, you were always there, and I could ask you whether the dress suited me or not. But now, seeing no you behind me... it hurts. You know, I try to think less about you, because there isn’t a single thought of you that doesn’t bring a...

When the silent cries remain silent no more, You feel like standing on the sea shore. You wish to scream, but you still hold— You're trying your best to mould. The pain, though, feels intense, And the anxious being finds peace no longer In lighting incense. The memories that do not give peace— Even one glimpse brings tears in millions, The dreams that feel real bring fears in trillions. What does the heart long for, When it has turned weak and fragile? What does the body do, When life seems to have stopped for a while? The heart longs for nothing but the beloved who rests in heaven. The heart feels stuck at 9:40, When it's already eleven...

The flowing water from my kitchen tap is drying, Since you left my home. But why it feels My home has left me ? Can you tell me, please Are you in grief  Or now, do you feel free ? The kitchen and the couch The sky and the leaves Turn to crimson hue, It's been three days and My shirt still smells of you . My conscience fights the dilemma… Is it better to wash the shirt or  Should I preserve your unseen touch ? My dried hands reminisce your alluring aura, But Your wrath, your bronze bracelet I never admired. This scar on my arm brings wretched memory, Should I embrace the pain or cherish its slow recovery ? For ages you build inside my heart Castles tall, In a rhythm of time, why demolished them all ? 'Somebody you love hurts you beyond calculations…' Someone said and brutally proved, My heart stands still, yet is intensely moved. I'm lost in thoughts of cosmos and you. I'm silent and the Radio talks. Yes I ...

  "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." — Martin Luther Life — the greatest teacher, the strictest Nazi, and the most generous Lord. At one point, it takes us to great heights; at another, it slips right out of our grasp. Death, often seen as the antonym of life, sometimes surpasses life itself in teaching. Moreover, there are times when life hugs us, only to become a betraying friend—throwing us off the edge of a cliff without warning. They say, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” But they completely ignore the fact that sometimes, life takes away the strength even to get out of bed, to switch on the lights, to reach the kitchen, to wash the dishes, and then finally to make that lemonade. When you’re overly stressed and slowly slipping into depression, this is what life does to you—it drains you so much that even the most basic activities feel like climbing mountains. Your bed pretends to be your grea...