“If you knew the way you made my heart break and eyes tear, you would curse your existence .”

I stopped complaining about things I didn’t have, and poured gratitude for what I did. Life became lighter and more fulfilling. Desire didn’t hold onto me like it earlier did. Happiness filled in like light, and life started to feel like a blessing.

Everyday is a discovery of the person I am becoming, or I always was, but only now realizing.

You are a miracle. Every essence of you is magic. On days you doubt yourself, I hope you know, the universe resides in you.

I keep you in my heart, like a dream unfulfilled. Like an incomplete wish. Like something I can crave but never have. Ever since the beginning of time, what has love been anyway? if not longing or heartbreak?

Aren’t all poets born from tragedy?

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.

I have inherited my fathers rage and my mothers silence. Everyday is a survival. I am a fire burning, just invisible.

Brown daughters are just fragile glass houses always on the verge of shattering.

I believe we all deserve good endings. We were kind people before this world turned us cruel.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

I’ve been so hurt. Just love me enough that my heart heals and all my scars worship your name.

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.

I want to write happy poems on new years. But grief doesn’t have timelines, and it refuses to let go of me.

Without this sadness I wouldn’t even know who I am.

You seem like such a long ago; but you were supposed to be my forever?

Sometimes I wish I could go back in life, not to change things but just to feel things twice.

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

I am not sick. I am broken. But I am happy to be alive as long as I can paint.

Those who are heartless, once cared too much.

You search, you break your heart, your back, your brain, and then-and only then-it is handed to you.

I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

Don’t feel sad over someone who gave up on you, feel sorry for them because they gave up on someone who would have never given up on them.

Maybe one day we shall be glad to remember even these hardships.