Part of my poetry collection, Margins of the First Draft — a piece about the courage to feel, to love without demands, and to say it out loud.A moment where poetry and pure emotion meet. (Authors Note) 9. She waited, afraid she has to look him in the eyes So I stood...
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Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #8
A reflection on love, beauty, and quiet desperation — part of my poetry collection, Margins of the First Draft. Emotional writing inspired by the haunted dreams of a young woman in love. (Authors Note) 8. Dearest mother, I am going to see him Dearest mother, Today I...
Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #7
Part of my poetry collection Margins of the First Draft — a quiet confession about love, longing, and life's simple, sinful pleasures. (Authors Note) 7. a lust was born And maybe We could Share a kiss or two, Let our worlds align Poetry on the Margins #7 Where the...
Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #6
This piece from Margins of the First Draft is a soft, slightly mischievous reflection on love, intimacy, and longing. Sometimes, poetry catches the places where tenderness and silliness meet. (Authors Note) 6. a Prayer was chanted Here I lay In the darkness of my room...
Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #5
This piece from Margins of the First Draft is a letter — to my mother, to myself, to anyone who has ever survived the deep seas of emotion. A small reflection on love, poetry, mental health, and the beauty of feeling everything deeply. (Authors Note) 5. Mother, look...
Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #4
This piece is part of Margins of the First Draft — a collection of poetry and reflections on first love, memory, and the soul.Sometimes, a glance says everything that poetry tries to capture. (Authors Note) 4. “His Eyes” was her favourite poem His eyes If that was not...
Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #3
This reflection is part of Margins of the First Draft — a collection of poetry and personal thoughts on love, memory, and inspiration.Here, I wonder about the quiet hope of making someone eternal through art. (Authors Note) 3. And she was afraid of him fading So,...
Short Story-The Silence Between Us(In love with a Dead Poet)
I feel like I have nothing left to write these days. Instead of creating, I’ve been sitting on my bed in a vegetative state, guilt accumulating with every sip of wine I take. I know I should be writing—or doing something, anything. Sometimes, I catch myself simply waiting for nightfall, just so I can curl up and pretend to sleep, though occasionally, I find myself fantasizing instead.
Short Story – Absence (In love with a Dead Poet)
Any words I manage to put down feel dull and meaningless—especially compared to you, or the kind of love and admiration that has been, is, and always will be within me. I have carried it with pride, deep within my heart, shielded from the harsh realities of this world. Sometimes it feels like the purest thing I’ve ever known; other times, it feels as though I’ve sold my soul to this love, just to feel anything at all. Believe me, in the darkest times of my youth, it was the light I clung to. It was the hope that, at the end of the line, you would be there—waiting for me, arms wide open, welcoming me into the light with your embrace.I felt your absence more deeply than I have ever felt anything before.
Short Story – His Eyes Were a Poem (Romance and all that)
Frozen in place, I stood there as if time itself had stopped, while the poem was fixated on me. Never in my life had I felt such insignificance in my own existence.
While my desires and admirations were fighting over what was left of me, his face was expressionless. The eyes that harbored the warmest of my feelings were cold, like those of a killer.
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