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ibardni ibardni

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Mujtaba AndRabi  24-karat life. Winter, could I be wearing any more clothes!

I told her for the thousandth time
While our warm shadows danced
In a cold room that had caught fire.
(Not that I was counting or anything
But that's how the world works for the ones
Who have made themselves believe that
They are undeserving,
Even of their own love)
She smelled of rosewood and tears
When she, like an autumn leaf,
Opened her wings
And, before I could say anything else,
Merged with the darkness.
I still don't know why the flames,
When she left,
Started to bloom like autumn.
She had left a letter though,
A small one,
Under the bed lamp that had stopped working
After a bullet suddenly pierced its neck
And went on to shatter the frame
Of that black and white photograph
She'd loved.
It wasn't there now,
The photograph.
The unfamiliar silences that exhumed
From the inconspicuous syllables
Written on the barren pages
Of her letter,
I burnt them,
Collected the jet-black ashes
And mixed them with honey and milk
To make ink out it.
I used that ink to
Write this unwanted poem;
But she isn't here,
Neither is her memory.

beautiful destinations come for a higher price.

Content of cognition

"My ammi used to say that:
Each snowflake is a home
Built out of heartbreak and brief passions
That died in the cold arms of
Fierce strangers;

That's why
Each one of these frosted loves
Look and taste different than one another.
It rarely snows now."

Is it the voices that you crave for
or the spaces buried
or the things untold?

if you don't wanna hurt yourself,
keep looking too closely...

Stand off your limits.

occupied by Chaos.
(photo/@tufailfarooq )

Peace is just another battle.

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