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Long after the sun’s set I release a breath of self-proclaimed misery and let out all those dreams that couldn’t be true I let out a breath of restless hope as I prepare myself for the scarce crumbs of comfort that night brings on will I be in your arms again and cry a river,…
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जो साथ हों लेंतो अपने बगावत कर जायेंगेजो साथ न देंतो तुम्हारे गुनेहगार कह लाएंगेजो दिल की सुनेंतो दिमाग़ के दुश्मन बन जायेंगेऔर जो दिमाग़ की सुनेंतो अपने आप के न हो पाएंगेकैसी यह कश्मकश हैजाएं चाहे जिस भी रास्तेकिस्मत से तकरार तय है
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ग़म तो जनाबइस बात का है कीनिगाहों में जिनकी हमताउम्र रहना चाहते थेउन्हें नज़रों से गिरने मेंज़्यादा वक़्त न लगाहम सपने बुनते रह गएऔर वो दबे पाओं दग़ा दे गए
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I keep telling myselfit’s all rightto not have what I wantto not get what I craveto pine for what I deserveto lose what’s mineBut in realityI’m dyingof these meek attemptsof these fake comfortsof these suffocating breathsof living these sore liesI keep telling myselfthat I’m all rightbut a voice echoes from deep inside“you’re not, but you’ll…
Read More“I don’t allow myself
to doubt myself
even for a moment.”
यूँ बिन बताए आधी रात आनासब जान चुके हैंपरेशान हो चुके हैंअब शांत हो चुके हैंयूँ खिड़की से सीटियां मारनासब जान चुके हैंपरेशान हो चुके हैंअब हार चुके हैंवक़्त का खेल तो देखोकिस्मत पलटवार कर गयीअब जो जा चुकी हो तो सुनोख्यालों मेंयूँ बिन बताए न आया करोभूला चुका हूँ मैंहार चुका हूँ मैंयूँ दिलोदिमाग…
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Author: Stephen King | Genre: Horror | Pages: 320 | Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton A game. A husband and wife game. Gerald’s Game. But this time Jesse didn’t want to play. Lying there, spreadeagled and handcuffed to the bedstead while he’d loomed and drooled over her, she felt angry and humiliated. So she’d kicked out hard. Aimed to hit…
Read More“One ought,
every day at least,
to hear a little song,
read a good poem,
see a fine picture, and,
if it were possible,
to speak a few reasonable words.”
I look over my shoulders. One, twice, and then again. This ritual never ends. Me, chasing darkness for that sliver of light. And light evading me, elusive as ever. I couldn’t have been more desperate, more wanting of that one little ray of hope. I wake up. The morning is chilly. There’s a slight nip…
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‘Tis not about ghosts and ghouls or dark and demons or scare and fear ‘Tis about sombre endings of lovers weeping ‘Tis about bittersweet feelings of stolen hugs and kisses of desperate promises 3 am is melancholic it is nostalgic it is needy but never scary.
Read More“Never forget what you are,
for surely the world will not.
Make it your strength.
Then it can never be your weakness.
Armour yourself in it,
and it will never be used to hurt you.”
Asha Seth 