𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓾𝓼𝓽

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: ┌─･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾₊˚⊹♡◦∘｡ﾟ. ─┐ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. └─･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾₊˚⊹♡◦∘｡ﾟ. ─┘ :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

I have never known love as lightning.

It did not arrive with thunder, did not split the sky in two, did not demand to be noticed.

Instead, it came like a bonfire on a rainy evening—

quiet, steady, warm enough to make me stay.

You speak in unfinished sentences, in "maybe later"s and "I'm bad at this"s, and somehow, I trust every word.

You do not sweep me away.

You anchor me.

The world keeps asking for sparks, for spectacles, for stories bright enough to blind.

But I think I prefer this—

the soft certainty of smiling when your name appears,

the comfort of knowing that some thoughts can wait for another day,

the strange peace of being understood without needing to explain myself.

And every morning, before the noise of the world returns,

there you are—

not a thought,

not a dream,

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

The stars do not fear the night,

for they have known darkness all their lives.

What they fear

is the vanishing of the moon.

For who will they look toward, when the sky grows vast?

Who will listen to their silent light?

The night remains beautiful, they suppose...

Yet beauty has always felt different

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

You remind me of Krishna— not the god they pray to, but the one who laughs while stealing hearts and makhan in the same breath.

Your eyes— mischief wrapped in something deeper, like you know secrets you'll never fully tell.

Your gaze, sharp, effortless— sets something restless loose in me, a quiet fire I didn't ask for, but don't want to put out.

Your curls— echoes of Kanha's own, soft chaos, impossible to ignore.

And the way you speak— casual, teasing, like every word is a game you're already winning— it lingers longer than it should.

Your presence— it hums, like electricity under skin, like something just short of a storm.

Who are you, really?

Because you don't feel ordinary. You feel like something I'd write about and regret later.

Are you the one I didn't know I was waiting for? Or just a beautiful distraction I'll lose myself in anyway?

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

What if, that day, I had been more careful- held my laughter a little softer, instead of letting it spill so recklessly between us ?

What if, that day, I had asked you,t o text me later- just one small thread, to keep the moment from unraveling ?

what if, that day, I hadn't been so greedy for your time , your words- hadn't reached for more than the moment could hold, and quietly let it be ?

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.• An evanescent moment, dipped in melancholy and soft euphoria— that was what it was. A fleeting fragment of time that probably meant nothing to you… but to me, it was ineffable— the quiet kind of feeling that lingers long after the moment dissolves.

Yet, I was pulled back from my reverie by an agonizing truth: to you, I am merely another face in the room.

Now the days stretch endlessly into vacation, and I find myself longing for your presence. I try to focus on life, but my heart drifts— lost in those bittersweet memories. I yearn like a lover, yet in reality, we are nothing more than acquaintances… perhaps just friends, at best.

When I seek solace in those halcyon memories, I see your smile— glowing like an aurora across a quiet sky.

Now I sit with a sketchbook, its pages filled with nocturnal thoughts and fragments of you. Even the moon watches me, as if she understands— as if she pities me.

And here I am, in my room, wrapped in a diaphanous stillness, vellichor settling softly within me as petrichor drifts through the air.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

No one noticed the way her lungs would hesitate, like even breathing felt optional.

No one noticed how the noise inside her head was louder than the hallway bells, louder than laughter that wasn't hers.

No one noticed the locked bathroom stall, the silent shaking, the tears wiped away before the mirror could tell.

No one noticed how long her sleeves stayed down, even in summer.

No one noticed the way she mastered the art of "I'm fine".

But the truth? She was a storm learning how to whisper.

And maybe— just maybe— someone will notice one day.

And instead of silence, they'll say, "I see you."

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Tell me— how does it feel to be the lines,not the writer? to be loved, and not the one falling? You'll never know how many verses learned your name before they learned how to exist. I don't ask for forever— just notice me, even if just for a minute, let me be the place you come to when the world goes quiet.

You want to know the lie and the truth? The lie is that you're mine. The truth is— I've always been yours.

And if loving you is labour, then I'll work without any wages. Just so you know— I'll keep choosing you, even without eternity.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

They glimmer, not with joy, but with echoes of rain, A mirror of pain that forgot how to explain. Each blink — a story untold, a dream left hollow, A sea too deep for light to follow.

They've seen love fade and promises borrow Moments from tomorrow just to survive today. Yet they still shine — not broken, just bruised, A quiet rebellion in shades of grey.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

You wanted to learn how to ride a cycle So even today, I roam around on mine But in all those pretenses your touch never reaches me.

You wanted to read those poems, So even today, I stay up arranging rhymes But at the end of the night only the dawn returns, never you.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

We were just classmates— desks apart, worlds quiet. I liked youthe way you like a song you never play out loud.

I'm leaving now. this isn't a request, just a truthI didn't want to leave behind in the classroom. We were just classmates— but my heart sat closer than my chair. This is where I let it rest— with you, and with goodbye.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ Bless my little heart, For it cannot bear pain. Bless my sinful soul, For it once was innocent. Bless my dull eyes, For they once shone like stars. Bless my tear stained cheeks, For they once were rosy. Bless my lips, For they once smiled a lot. Bless my hands covered in bruises, For they still write. Bless myself as a whole, For I no longer wish to live— yet I still hope to be forgiven. Bless the silence, For it finally understands me. Bless the night, For it cradles me in silence. Bless the dawn, Though I may never greet it.

˗ˏˋ✧ ݁₊˚☾ ݁₊⋆⏔⏔⏔ ꒰᧔✴︎᧓꒱ ⏔⏔⏔‧₊˚☁︎⋆˚☆'ˎ˗ "Eyes talk, chica," he said...

...and suddenly silence wasn't empty anymore—it was loud. Louder than words, louder than excuses, louder than every "I'm fine" ever whispered into the dark.

Because his eyes?

They weren't just looking. They were reading. Like I was some half-written poem he refused to misunderstand.

And mine... mine betrayed me.

They flickered like candlelight in a storm— hesitating, trembling, confessing things my lips were too afraid to say.

So I laughed it off, of course. A soft, careless sound.

"Then stop listening," I told him.

But he didn't.