Mine

These words that I pen are not about you.

Middle ground

There's no middle ground. It was either this way or that way. I chose this. You chose that. Because when I said "here", you were over there. When I said to remember you said that you did not. And when  I said "now", you thought I meant later. When I made noise, you went silent. When I pointed to my heart, you looked to the sky, and that's where it ended. 

Wait

 

If you and I were little turtles and you got left behind, I'd slow down and wait for you. 

Release

 

Wind, take it away. Fire, let it burn. Water, wash over me. Cleanse me. Release me. 

The moment

Protect the moment. Protect the times. Remember gentleness when it mattered. Remember the good. In quiet days, those times will remain. 

Bloom

Today we live.

Even if we feel we can't, we still will. 

Because our story doesn't end here. 

A tree can lay dormant when the winter feels long and the ground feels frozen.

Focus on what is happening beneath it. 

It will always bloom, beautifully. 

A call

In a world where people don't have time for each other, thank you for calling. Chatting with you is a release and reset for me. Time flies listening to each other. There's no pretence or hiding. I can be myself with you completely. You're the only one who knows me. Thank you for listening to me. 

Clocks

 

Do you think clocks stop ticking, or does someone wind them up again to save them from death?

Love

My days have been filled with me trailing jasmine plants through the fence. It has taught me that love and tenderness are underrated in a world that prizes grand gestures. There is a quiet rebellion in knowing that tender, slow acts of love are actually what sustain us.

Furqan

Somewhere, some day, it's our last exchange of words. Our last conversation. Not even a proper goodbye. Because we thought there will be a tomorrow and we'll talk to each other again. It is correctly said that tomorrow never comes, because it's today. And you are so quiet. Say something please, one more time. I promise, I'll reply. 

Smoke

In the buzz, and movement, we collided. We spun, we danced and then we let go. What is left is a puff of smoke. Perfumed, lingering longing. Smoke. No more. 

Pause

Life isn't the race.

Life is the pause. 

It's the contemplation.

It's the sigh. 

Life is when you look up and around. 

Life isn't black and white, 

but made up of the most brilliant colours. 

Life is waiting for a moment, but then going for it. 

Life is the

pause. 

Last message

Sunflowers and sunsets. Goodbyes not said. A quiet exit, a whisper. Did you hear it? I called you. Did you hear me? Between right and wrong. And now I'm gone.

Enough

 To be beautiful is enough. To be strong is enough. To be happy is enough. 

Burn

 Each day gives me a chance to pick myself up and start again. 

But I do have a book, a tiny one, in which I've written what I will not do again. 

I've learnt my lesson, I'll not do it again. 

Bring on the Sun today.

Let it burn. 

Hold on

The littlest gestures matter:

How you talk to someone.

How you show up. 

Your availability. Your willingness. 

How you remember what they want and not just what they like. 

How you hold on. 

Wounded Children

We are tired, flawed, and quietly afraid. We carry our wounds like rare treasure, forgetting that everyone bleeds. Yet, we still fail to empathise with another. We fail to realise we all go through the same pains. We think, it's only us. It's not. We are all wounded children.

Shine

 Do you ever wonder how brilliant your eyes are, that they see the most ordinary things shine? 

Dust

If I let you in please don't unsettle the dust. I have gotten used to it now. It's a part of me. The sunlight makes it sparkle. The breeze tries hard to move it. It's there, comfortable. Let it be. And if you want to be a part of me, accept the dust as me. 

Imperfect

Nothing is ever perfect. Not the moment. Not the minute. Not the person. That's a good thing. Who wants perfection anyway?