My heart was not a parking lot.
Still, they came.
They left their storms in me
and walked away quiet.
I stayed
holding what wasn’t mine.
When I tried to follow,
to feel even a piece of it
engines turned.
doors closed.
gone.
I had no price.
no barrier.
just space.
and still
no one stayed.
Only if…
my body could float like a balloon…
I swear
I wouldn’t rush the sky.
I would look down…
at the quiet geometry of roads,
the smallness of worries,
the way people forget
how to look up.
And before I pop
oh, before I disappear
I would feel everything.
Maybe…
it won’t be the air pressure.
Maybe
it’ll be the birds.
Sharp beaks.
Sudden endings.
Like people
who cannot stand
to see you flying higher
than their fears.
And inside me….
helium.
Not just gas
memories.
Laughter.
Fragments.
Unfinished sentences.
And when I burst
they burst too.
What remains of me
might fall…
somewhere unreachable.
A rooftop.
An ocean.
A place where meaning
doesn’t survive.
Or maybe
someone finds me.
And I’m no longer… me.
Just material.
Repurposed.
Framed.
Hung on a wall
like love that once lived,
now remembered
instead of felt.
I don’t want to poison the waters…
I don’t want
my falling
to become
someone else’s ending.
A creature
innocent
mistaking me for survival.
If it lives…
I hope someone notices in time.
Before I become
a silent mistake
inside a living body.
But what if I rise higher?
Higher…
than fear,
than memory,
than gravity itself.
And I get caught
branches.
Thorns.
Reality.
And still…
what a beautiful ending it would be
to fall
on a rose.
To breathe in fragrance
with my last stretch of air…
To rest
finally
on something
that knows how to bloom
and bleed
at the same time.
The wind…
will take me again.
It always does.
No address.
No destination.
Just… movement.
Nowhere.
I feel it now…
this strange lightness.
This hollow…
that doesn’t hurt.
Maybe we are all balloons.
Filled with invisible rebellions.
Floating thoughts.
Quiet defiance.
We rise
not because we are strong…
but because
something inside us
refuses
to stay grounded.
And all we really want is
to reach
somewhere beautiful…
before we pop.
The suffering…
we carry….
comes from
the “I”.
So maybe…
let’s not introduce ourselves
with “I”.
“I”…
detonates your peace.
And then—
in fragments…
you go searching for bliss.
All the dissatisfaction.
All those miseries.
“I”.
“I”… triggers the craving
for another “I”.
And “I”…
keeps multiplying…
until patience—
is gone.
Your “I”.
My “I”.
Both…
begging for something.
But what does “I” even hold?
Just the futility
of the world’s treasure.
This “I”…
craves pleasure.
This “I”…
so selfish.
So small.
Pathetic… “I”.
Open your eyes…
How distant…
you’ve become…
with your own “I”.
Your “I” is just dust—
not even the storm…
just dust
in a multiverse
that doesn’t even notice you.
Tell me
with what “I”…
does freedom hug you?
With what “I”…
do your emotions…
keep biting you?
You are already…
plugged into infinity.
And still…
your “I” wanders…
for things
that are already decaying.
Don’t turn life
into heartless humour.
Don’t spread
baseless rumour…
all because of “I”.
The divine…
made a quiet pact
with your “I”.
So your “I”…
and my “I”…
will…
fade.
Not with noise…
not with fear…
but like a drop…
returning…
to the ocean.
When I knew
Lady Gaga was my elder sister
born on the same day as me,
I went through her playlist again,
listened to Poker Face
ogled my joker face
in front of the mirror,
then when I heard Bad Romance
I remembered the good romance,
the hidden glance,
the silent chance
I never took in advance.
When I felt low,
gloomy and upset,
when I regretted not taking a chance,
I forgot it all,
played Just Dance
shook my body in a trance,
like a farmer shaking an apple tree,
till something fell on me
oh sweet gravity
I pump myself in
low tides,
low hopes,
lonely nights,
when shadows rise
and dim the lights,
I thought of ending my life,
cut by the world’s quiet knife.
I cried,
face covered with a blanket tight,
then played Million Reasons at night,
and let my heart take flight,
like opening a cage
packed with pigeons in fright.
Today is my birthday,
like always, I will try
to spread a smile,
no matter how or why,
won’t let my innocence die,
won’t let it be snatched away
I don’t even know what to say……
I was born this way.
I don’t only carry my tears,
I also carry yours,
along with mine.
That’s the reason I cry so much
so that you wouldn’t have to drop
even a single drop of tear.
A single drop of tear…
a single drop of tear.
And he started crying again.
Most people don’t understand
that everybody needs love
some time to relax
and think
can’t expect them to reach the other side of the shore
in a blink
with a wink
most people don’t understand
that everybody needs time
can’t operate the mind of a human like a machine
and make them obey like a programmed robot
there won’t be anyone to pick
with one click
oh I get sick
to do list to tick
can’t smile like a clown
and do some kind of magic trick
Most people don’t understand
that everybody has got a heart
and it hurts
really hurts
when they throw a pointy dart at us
just to score a point
gratifying their desire
their pride
we need space to explore
not a wall to hide
Most people don’t understand
that life is not granted
nature provided us
more than we ever demanded
hymns of love will reverberate
if kindness and compassion are chanted
how can we destroy our planet
that keeps our soul enchanted
Most people don’t understand
what I understand
and I don’t understand
what most people understand
so it’s alright
we will understand each other one day
and there will be no misunderstanding
no conflict
no war
only love
only peace
I hope you understand
what I mean
Most schools don’t teach
the art of making money,
they only teach
how to get paid.
Most of your friends don’t teach
the art of finding true love in life,
they only teach
how to get laid.
She was selling raw mangoes
sitting quietly under a tree
as if nothing had happened
but everything had
The earthquake had taken
walls, roof, certainty,
left her with open sky
and the quiet hunger of survival.
I do not like raw mangoes.
Their sourness never belonged to me.
But her smile
not yet fully there,
not yet ripened
waited somewhere between hope and habit.
So I bought them.
Not for their taste,
but for that fleeting moment
when her face softened,
when something inside her
chose to bloom again.
It has been a long time.
Fieldwork has turned into memory,
and memory into a photograph
that still breathes.
And every time I look
I do not see mangoes,
or ruins,
or loss.
I see a smile
ripening in the middle of dust,
and I remember
once,
I was able
to be the reason.
I Wish Birds would sing along the way,
And people would dance
Throughout the day.
Clouds would shower flowers,
As if they’re happy today,
Everything shining,
Clean in its own gentle way.
People would open their hearts,
Parking kindness like love
That chose to stay.
I wish there would be
So much celebration and cheers,
Because
I am going to meet someone
Who sketches my imagination
And paints my tears.
What is your favorite type of weather?
When I am happy,
even the overcast sky
and crying clouds
couldn’t make me sad.
When I am sad,
even the sunny skies
couldn’t lift the weight I had.
My heart remained
cuddled in my arm.
Even the temperature
dripped icicles.
I remained kind and warm.
I had dared to hold a cone
with a shivering hand,
waiting for snow to fall
for a natural cream.
Sometimes my mind becomes foggy
when the sky is clear,
and sometimes the sky wears lids
when my mind evaporates.
Once, when I rolled my sleeves
like a tornado
to go on a ride,
the storm almost blew me
to my friend’s house
without a distance to cover.
That day, I realized
she was a quiet lover
whom I couldn’t see through
because mist
covered my sight forever.
I have been cold inside
when the temperature touched the roof.
Dogs remained—woof woof.
And somehow,
I learned to be weatherproof.
