life's an ombre
three fingers in a crack
one pair of jhumkis
abandoned in three different racks
life is those phases of moon
the ones you stole, not left
life is a foreign thread
nudging you to take it home from
the back of your room's door
It is a colour I get, but don't
mismatching shade of roli-tilak
on another festive month
home is a fragile stain,
a dark party room's door left ajar
भोर, शाम और रैना—तेरे तीन रंग रंगरेज़
home is three unwritten poems
in two quotation marks
YOU ARE READING
The Language of Rain
Poetry[TW :- CRINGE] Here, burns the bonfire of my heart. this is a random collection of poems and thoughts.
