Stuti

They calm all the chaos in my head.

Those sweet honey eyes are what keep me sane.

I'm a treacherous thunderstorm and he's a serene sunset.

One look in his beautiful eyes, and I become pouring rain.

but you know what, i saw your blog and itssssss amazing!

i am happy that I made this mistake.

mwah!

Heyyyyy!

I'm stuti🫠

They have a girl who never believes in herself. 

They have a girl who is quiet during lessons

even when she knows the answers,

Because something inside her constantly declared that she's mistaken. 

They have a girl who never chose the stage of confidence, 

But the seat on which she sits and wishes she could get there. 

They have a girl who never trusted her skills, 

And is letting them rot in skepticism. 

They have a girl who's insecure about herself, 

Because she was always chosen last as there was no choice left. 

They have a girl who doesn't have a voice of her own, 

As her words were always suppressed under the loudness of others.

My parents never had a girl with roots of confidence to stand tall, 

But a girl with sickness in her stomach, stress headaches, and sweat in her hands.

-Stuti

I lie on my bed and stare at my dusty sketchbook,

The colors that I bought a year ago,

Are decaying in some corners of the room,

Days are passing by,

I haven't touched them.

I see people creating art,

I envy them,

Self-loathing is what I live in.

My mind is cursed,

And my hands paralyzed

The art I carry inside me is losing its value.

I'm drowning in the colors

I once thought would save me.

I sit here mourning and watching

the slow extinction of the art,

That I carry inside me.

Of the warmth of the winter morning sun,

And the softness of the beautiful sunset

He's the only essence.

His efforts are like shooting stars

Whose arrival aren't anticipated,

But are bewitching.

Conversations with him flow like poetry

carving their way into my mind,

With his words like a soft dim light

And not like a burning blaze.

He equals the poetry I write

When it comes to pouring out my thoughts.

To my chaotic life,

Loving him is being at peace.

The one like the soft dim light

And not like a burning flame.

The one with long conversations

And no loud anger or screams.

The one like the softness of pouring rain

And not like the storms and floods.

The one where you learn each other

And not where you're left embroiled.

The one which is safe and secure

And not disheartening and crestfallen.

The one which will heal you

And not leave you suffering.

The one in which you'd read poetry to them in the a.m.

And not in which you'd shed a tear at night.

The one which makes you want to speak

And not to hold back your thoughts.

The one which will leave you with answers

And not question marks.

The one which is quiet and patient

And not a mad rush.

The one which is consistent

And not doubtful.

The one that always stays

And doesn't abandon.

The one which isn't seen by anyone

And still known by the world.

You came from a separate way and met them on the same path for some time which again lead to a separate way without them, and you kept walking on it hoping that if you'll turn around you would see them coming for you but you didn't. You are just in some corner of the world as they are. You might be connected in some way but they don't know you anymore, and neither do you. You knew them, and now their existence in your life is in the past that doesn't exist anymore. They are now just a bitter-sweet feeling in your life that will never go. If you ever cross paths with them it'll be just an intersection of two lines meeting at a point, for a moment, that won't last for long and then going their separate way. Now you don't even turn around to look at them coming for you because you've come too far to look for something that doesn't exist anymore, your hope in them. They are someone whose existence is nonexistent to you, just like past.