Refuge or Exile

I sought the quiet

So built a tall wall 

Called it peace 

Felt completely free

Time flew

No one asked me 

How I was

Silence grew sharp 

I locked my door inside out

Didn't realize 

My refuge is my exile

So Close yet too Far

​I stand in a crowd 

of a thousand faces

Smiling through 

the muffled voices.

I never learned the way 

to let someone in.

I am close to everyone

yet far from them all.

Alone in the crowd

I learned this ache

Loneliness is not about 

who is just around. 

I keep waiting for a soul 

to notice my quiet

Every day, I carry 

that silence alone.

Fucking Witch

Keep your glass slippers and sweet serenades

I will take the spellbook and the storm that it makes.

No prince no rescue no dwarfs in a line,

My power is mine and my fate is in line.

Forget satin and ribbons and soft courtesy grace

I was born for the chaos and the chase.

Your happy ending can stay in its ditch 

I am far more perfect as the disney witch.

Echos of Stillness

​My heart has many faces

I dont know which one is mine.

I dont want these faces

I dont need the stage.

​I just want to be a spectator

A quiet shadow in my own play.

I have no more performances to keep

Let the play move on without my act.

​I choose to hang on to the stillness

A mute watcher of my own self.

How have you been?

We traded late night laughter for "How have you been?"
The affectionate world we shared became a quiet screen.
New routines rewrote the space where we used to blend
As priorities reshaped the relationship and the friends.

​We did not violently break nor did we crash and burn
Just quietly stepped aside when it was life's turn.
The world kept moving on, as it has to do
And "I am fine" became the truth, instead of just a cue.

Surrogate Life

​We replaced presence with proximity

We replaced the lack of comprehension with confidence

We mistake knowing with knowing about 

​We trade the fire for the friction of the spark

We map the world but never find ourselves

We collect the echo convinced thar we heard the cry

And count the views to prove that we are alive

Phantom Friendship

You are like my phantom limb.  

I still reach for you out of habit.  

The pain isnt that you are gone.  

It is that my mind hasnt learned it yet. 

The Paradox of Choice

​Easiest thing to do is give up.

Toughest thing to do is give up.

​Once you give up

life gets easy

an immediate release.

​Once you give up

life gets difficult

a long-term weight to pull.

​Choose well

The exhaustion of trying or

The guilt of walking away.

The bane of Minimalism

Before technological advancement,

Everything was art.

Now in the name of minimalism,

Everything is ash and no heart.

We traded the intricate and ornate

For the clean and frictionless.

We traded beauty and complexity

For the sterile and vileness.

We swapped the chisel for the pixel,

The texture for the screen.

And scrubbed away the human touch

To keep the canvas clean.

The arches turned to square blocks,

the colors faded fast.

And the modern world forgot

how to make beauty last.

Now efficiency is the king,

and algorithms decide

with everything a shade of grey,

and little left beside.

We traded passion for a grid,

and beauty for a bruise.

Versions of Brave

There is a difference between 

"You handled it so well"

And

"You were strong and you survived it".

The first praises strength 

that looked a lot like poise..

A bow to the armor you wore all along. 

The second honors the fear 

that looked a lot like strength.

A tribute to the terror that kept you alive 

all through the storm

Two different eulogies for the same fight.  

One for who they saw.  

One for who you had to be.

The Power of Done

Soul usually knows when to heal itself 

The challenge is the heart and head. 

The heart keeps maps to places  

that burned the house down.  

Calls the ruin "home"  

and begs to move into it.

The head builds courtrooms  

out of maybes and what ifs.  

Puts the past on trial  

but never lets it rest.  

Heart negotiates and thinks

The noise of the trials by head 

Is the process of healing 

Meanwhile the soul 

quiet in the corner

already packed its bags,  

left the door cracked,  

and whispered

"come on, we are done here"

The soul doesnt need 

a verdict to move on.

it only needs an exit.

Luxury Impact

​They press a kiss against the brick

A gentle breath before the blow.

Its the only love that comes our way

The kind thats aimed to lay us low.

​They tied it with a satin bow,

To keep the impact "high-end" though.

Noise of Doing Nothing

Everyone needs more than

anyone can give right now.

We ask oceans of half-filled cups.

In a world where 

nothing feels steady enough to hold,

The threat is not stillness, 

but the noise of doing without being.

Haunted by doors we didnt open, 

lives we didnt choose,

afraid something better 

is always slipping past us.

Hearts unanchored, 

learning to brace in empty spaces.

We reach with salt stained hands 

toward each other,

and call it enough when someone stays.

Professional Stayer

​I am so replaceable

It is actually a crime.

I notice a dust mote and 

I overthink it for a time.

I wait for old friends 

while they are out having fun

Staring at the void

like a half baked bun.

I have lost my selfworth 

in a pile of worn socks,

While my real issue is 

A spine that lacks.

Calm after a restless day

A beautiful ambiguity: 

Is the sky painting the tree pink, 

or is the tree staining the night? 

Either way, the world is whispering 

'be still' after a day of noise

The Art of Enough

Mediocrity has got a chill vibe

Beer in hand, I am feeling fine.

No laurels, no stress

Just some fizz and a little buzz

A frosted glass and a steady breath

I am letting the hustle pass

You are all climbing peaks

I am sitting still

Contented in my skin

If this is what being mediocre means

Then pour me another gin

Grow some self Respect

Note to Self;

Stop begging for scraps at tables

Where I am not even a guest.

I have spent my pride like pocket change 

On people who don't even know my name.

It is pathetic, this frantic dance I do 

just to be noticed by the indifferent.

Starve that desperate need for a hand to hold.  

it juat makes me weak and hollow.

Look in the mirror at the ghost I have become

while chasing shadows.

Sit in the dirt of my own making 

until I learn to stand up alone.

Existential Loophole

Between a yes and a no

There are a zillion possibilities

But the questions of my life...

Is chaos the choice I make, or merely my destiny?

Is confusion my goal or my natural talent?

Did clarity block me, or did I block it first?

Did I spin the wheel or do I just vibe irresponsibly?

Is life a hesitation, scripted or improvised treason?

And is there a sub-clause in my life's contract 

that pays me extra for being 

this philosophically exhausted?

In Case You Are There..

I look back more often

Maybe you are there

Maybe I missed a turn

Maybe you were waiting for me

I can’t help it

I still keep looking back

Hoping to see you looking for me

Hoping you are still around.

-- Me, looking longingly at the 

rava laddu on the dining table.

Drifting : Slipping away from self

​The tide of thought pulls me away

A phantom in my own history.

I disappear into myself so easily

That it feels unreal to still be held

Inside the warmth of anyone’s memory.

​It might melt me if someone said they missed me

A sudden sun against the winter ice.

I genuinely forget that I am a thought

In anyone’s mind, or that someone like me

Is even worthy of a place where love resides.