The Light He Stole

Love is a rainstorm.
Strengths and weaknesses
rattle her insides,
shatter her mind and light up the entire sky.
The light escapes the shuddering shadows
and his words come in like sunlight,
in her world that she needs.
He talks with so much insight,
like a book that she reads.
He is the ‘Rain of Light’
she wishes for to come true,
she counted the 7,850 stars in the night sky
for it’s all her love knew.
In the indigo of the night,
the stars in a blanket grew silver,
by the morning sun they just hid behind
lending them her glow causing him to shine.
Her outer light strikes his surface,
But it was his inner light that strikes her soul,
She was the girl who was blessed by the sun yet it was her light that he stole.


Weighed in by gravity

Weighed in by gravity, I indulged in petty quarrels of a once happy home. Many are the things unsaid when the tongues are bitter, much is the blood spilled when our hearts are slit. My mind is unfit, festering the words that’ll walk a mile in my soul.

Two cans of paint: India and United Arab Emirates 

I let my life mix with my dreams like two coloured cans of paint; the saffron 🇮🇳 mixed with the red, green and black 🇦🇪 until I didn’t know which was what and I didn’t care, I call you home 🏡Dubai is my hustle and my grind, Bangalore is my victory lap and my celebration. Dubai is my heart, Bangalore you’ll always be the blood that pumps through it. Dubai taught be about being not having, Bangalore showed me how blessed I am. Between Dubai and Bangalore, I learn everyday that my glass is always full and refillable. Dubai and Bangalore you make me grow towards the sky while the sun calls my name and the stars light up my pathway. Home is always here and a missed land ❤️


Glazed Fire at Dusk

Beautiful hues of pink and yellow seeping through your pores, you astonish me with shades of gold. Purple and blue slide from the corner of your eyes, watching you at all the right times. Like a glazed fire; you look grand to the high skies. Even if it’s brief for a few moments of glory, only to fall below the horizon down. So far, you can only fly to it and you are so close, you could fly to it.


Constellations of Hercules 

I’m trapped under this dome of blue, it holds my gaze while changing into different hues. Upon the brilliant starlight, I found the constellation of Hercules. Kissing the horizon, I’ve laid tracks in my head that will take me anywhere. Anywhere; but I can’t bring myself to take a step. I have unpacked my bag of fears, knowing it’s not worthy of the trip, while the dome of light still holds a grip. The dome cracks as light shines upon the darkest parts of my mind, allowing my cuts to be bandaged by the compassionate and kind. My truth to you will not be of ease for me, but in the end will be my ease for I came to you, my dome of light 💡


The Arrogance of The Pen

In the world of poetry, many poets have flung their words across the canvas and painted why the skies take after violent after dark. Marking their name across walls vibrating a bravura. While I double tap on their poetry reading words that echo through my mind. My pen has become arrogant and refuses to write. Poetry doesn’t come to the snobbish. Why do you pride yourself haughty, what have you written that’s so tidy? I’ve put down my pen for just a little while, so I can breathe a world into me that I can explore by ink. Think. It’s the new sexy! Ink. That’s always been amorous. 🖋📝🔏


Meet Me Under the Glowing Confetti

Sometimes all it takes is one cup of coffee. It had taken her many years to build the walls tall and strong, but for him she always left the door unlocked; And on that fateful day he knocked! It’s like someone had finally responded to her ‘lost and found’ flyer. For some inexplicable reason you were here. Even though in the last 20 years our lives hadn’t crossed paths, you were right here.

Oh the things that you’d love to hear from people you know you will never hear from. So when they do, you are deaf and misconstrue what they mean. Isn’t that funny? I took my soul out of my pockets. Like origami that has been folded and refolded and worn at the edges with alcohol and coffee stains, greasy finger prints and smudge marks.

A cup of coffee maybe? Even the dustiest corners of my mixed-up soul dressed up to meet you. I ran as if to meet the moon.

Together — under the fancy dome of skylight that emitted glowing confetti, we compared our souls. Years later he had aged so gracefully with grey hair and folds across his chin, yet his charming smile and aura stirred a blush within. The perfect stranger was finally a friend; the puberty-hit girl never imagined she would meet him where time would never end. All it took was a cup of coffee.