Letters to him. 

Pulled me out of the ashes, made me feel alright. 

Turned the dust to sparkles, with the golden in his eyes.

From where I’m standing now, it doesn’t seem so grey. 

The world within my reach, your arms a haven safe. 

The whispers give me strength, your warmth a tear away. 

I’ll try to be as strong, as you gave me strength to stay.

More, if so is needed for the debt must be paid. 

And so I will smolder in your fervour, till my last breathing day. 

I know all too well-

Time will slip, through our fingers, through our clocks, they’ll stop ticking too, no matter how strong we make them.
But weld them they shall, in the world – now, today, tomorrow, forever.
The show must go on and it shall. And nevertheless,  the years will roll by, like the clouds so soon replaced and this monsoon too will pass.
The sun will shine promptly, maybe I’ll be spared on a gloomy morning on which it may occasionally peak.
But all in all – I’ll remember, even if I must pretend to forget, for we know not what  despondency the future withholds.
The sun will shine and I will remember, the attempts will be futile, I know all too well, to forget the way the sun caught your eyes.
Unrequited love has many books to its name. But how does one forget a love returned?
One doesn’t.
Its sinful. Folly.
So, I will remember because the attempts will be futile. I know all too well.

A little something for my city:

City Of The Dead.

Tears of joy, tears of fear,

Every second is precious here.

  Children weep and angels cry,

No mother’s  eyes are ever dried.

Who goes there? I whisper.Terrified.

The angel of death looks me in the eye.

I feel the chill, I shiver.

Icy cold is the night.

Save my land, me, my city of lights.

Those nights before.So blissful were they.

Now have I realised.

            – Hiba Naved.