Hello winter!

It’s cold again. The time when, finally, my crave ends. The time when my old hoodies, jeans and boots come out to live the loveliest time of the year with me. The time when I walk on the dried maple leaves to end my temptation of the sound they make.The time when I place my favorite coffee mug beside the books on the wooden study table near this rusty window. The time when the aroma of hot cocoa is in the air, making it more crisp. The time when I blow the dust off my typewriter to pour my heart out to it. But this time, it’s not only about some boots or mugs. This time it’s not about what I have. This time, it’s all about something that’s missing. This time, it’s all about something that perhaps I never had. Something that I see in everything. Might it be the dreams in the cold mid-nights or my reflection in the foggy mirror. Might it be my warm breaths or the beats of my icy cold heart. It’s all around me. This winter, it’s all about some thoughts. Thoughts, that are to me what ink is to writer and chords are to guitar, what breath is to dying and smoke is to cigar. This winter, it’s all about some heart aching memories. Memories, that are to me what white is to calm and pink is to bloom, what red is to passion and black is to gloom. This winter, I don’t crave for anything but that something. This winter, it’s not about me. It’s not about anything…but you. 


-Just you and me

“Let’s lie in here, and make some wish

Satisfy what we have in our chests

Build up nothing but memories

Let’s dive into fantasy, and dream a little”

We’d row the boat

Among snow white swans

In a lake so far

Just you and me

We’d get wet in the rains

Amidst the fog

In the woods so far

Just you and me

We’d dance in the dark

To the beats of our hearts

In the streets so far

Just you and me

We’d fly in the clouds

High and high

In the skies so far

Just you and me

“We’d live what we want, and do it all

Learning from each other, growing in love

And when we’d realize that it’s all a dream

We’d lie in here, side by side again”

We’d cry ourselves to sleep

With hands in hands

In a hut so far

Just you and me

جتھے نہ کوئی منگے تینوں اوتھے ہی ھون بجائیاں

نوں مہینے چک کے بھار آخر کرن وڈائیاں

نہ کوئی تینوں سینے لاوے نہ ونڈیاں جان مٹھائیاں

ہر کوئی آ کے دکھ کرے تے برتے لا پروائیاں

رو رو کٹیا بچپن سارا وچ جوانی گئی ستائیاں

ساری جند وچ چار دیواری !کاہنو بھیجیا؟ سائیاں

اک ویلے لئ جین نوں ترسی ہن کر لے جو بن پائیاں

بھر بھر اکھاں پا کے کجلا پیر پازیب چڑھائیاں

ہمت کر کے، ٹپ کے بوہا نظراں جگ وکھائیاں

تیز ہوا، تے گلی مٹی سنگھ کے پیاس بجھائیاں

ویکھن تیرا چہرہ ہسدا جناں توں ساں لکائیاں

رجن نہ او تک تک تینوں اکھاں رج ترسائیاں

ڈھل جاۓ سورج،پئے ہنیرا گھر جائیں وچ شدائیاں

نیلوں نیل این اتوں تھلے لالوں لال کلائیاں

آپے توں گدھ کر لۓ کٹھیاں ہن نہ دئیں دہائیاں

نکڑ پھڑ، تے لک کے اوتھے رب نوں دے صدائیاں

جد توں فرق نہ رکھیا وچ عمل دے دنیا کی ریتاں بنائیاں؟

مرد دی عزت کدی نہ جاوے ساڈیاں جاون ڈھائیاں

وچ بازار جائیے چیرے پھاڑے کوئی نہ دوے گواہیاں

کھا کے کسے دی عمر دی پونجی کتھے نہ جان وڈیائیاں

لٹدے ویلے کوئی نہ سوچے کنج کوئی کرے کمائیاں

کڑی کدے نئی جیندی، فیر توں کادیاں ضدان لائیاں؟

Searing echos

Backyard times
and warm bear hugs
Rose petals 
and lady bugs

Cold evenings
and infinite talks
Soft cuddles 
and slow walks

Plush pillows
and endless giggles
Pop songs 
and silly wiggles

Gentle rains
and long eves
Pleasant air
and maple leaves

Moonlit sky
and gloomy night
Tugged into past
and blur watery sight

Heavy heart
and aching mind
She closed her eyes
and wished she was blind

The Midnight Allure

2 am.

The only thing visible in the room was her face; glowing in the screen light of her laptop. Sitting stock-still, holding her breath, probably reading something. Squeezing her eyes after every couple of seconds to avoid blurriness her tears were creating. Scrolling up and down reading with weary, yet insomniac eyes, reading each and every word, she was feeling every single feeling that night.

3:30 am

She closed the lid, and moved to the bed with trembling legs; burdened by her own agitation. Her heart was fatigued with unknown fears, and mind was numb with the clump of thoughts
“What if every word he ever wrote was for me? What if I were the one he thinks about when writing?”
The night, like every other night of the past 2 years, was hard to breathe. With all heavy eyelids she was lying in the bed, thinking of how she was losing him with every passing breath.

As soon as the sight blurred, she felt something. A touch on her waist, softer than a new born’s skin, a waft near her ear causing goosebumps. She turned back and all she could see were two eyes; his eyes; as dead as hers. The grasp on her waist was hard now. He rubbed his hard cheek against her rosy cheek to wipe away the tear drop. The grasp, now, was harder. His every warm breath was curing her slashed soul. She was trying hard to forcefully open her loaded eyes, but he shut them with a gentle kiss.

“But…who are you?”*

9 am

The heaviness was not there in her eyes anymore. She opened them in the sun rays touching her tenderly. Everything was smooth now. The wounds seemed to heal. As if someone sucked all her torment off; she felt no agony in her. And wait, she was not amazed. Perhaps, she remembered nothing but the last whisper.

*”A Substitute” 


Unwise, she was.

Skinny face
Sharp collarbones
Boned waist
And tan legs

Messy hair
Smeared kohl
Silver nose stud
And broad chapped lips 

This is what she was
And, nasty

Never, she desired 
To be appealing 
All she ever wished 
Was to be

The melancholia
Causing him hate every part of him
 The madness
Making him adore imperfect existence of hers

A haze
Causing light trance to him
A sweet venom 
Slowly poisoning him to death

That made him a man
That existed in him



She was illusion
A magic spell
A mirage 

They craved for her 
To feel
To touch 
To believe 

Hidden colors
Unspoken words
Unseen stories 
Masked expressions

She was allure 
And fascination

They trapped her
They fought for her
In snatch and seize
They tore her

Some secrets
In her smashed heart
Some scars 
On her shattered soul

Not love letter
But hate note
Not favorite book
But pale old diary

Not melody 
But mourn song
Not talisman
But rotten luck 

They looked into her
For the gleam and spark
But who’ll tell them?
“Realities are meant to be dark”