I have had so many conversations in my head which I’ll never make. So much about friendships, so much about friends you make by sharing books can go wrong too. All who read are not here to stay. All people sharing books on Instagram are not what they read. All people who are kind won’t last, all people who are kind will runaway to save themselves. I have always waited for the dark to walk around I have never wanted people to recognise me. It is best to just live and let live that is what I have learnt. How tiresome it is to be human who are slowly degrading may be reaching to an end. How pathetic it would be to survive only to deceive in one way or another, sooner or later. I am happy but what a foolish world we live in cutting down the songs someone hums out of love of life.
Trying to break walls out of curiosity.
But we live anyhow assembling broken pieces of ourselves or else where is the joy in being whole?
Ashima Binny
Tag: life
Boat in a Puddle
Hey readers!
I launched my first book
A collection of poems
https://linktr.ee/ashima.binny
In hope to find kindred spirits…
Check out the link above to get your copies available in paperback and ebook format. Thank you ☺️
Voices
I remember Being conscious about the blood in my veins Running for their life Making noises like A sharp voice fading into nothingness So it stays And I reach out … Continue reading Voices
There’s a city
There’s a city I found on map Of lakes and bridges Of people and palaces.. / .. ..If I could run around In the city Up and down the hill … Continue reading There’s a city
Peace
How peace comes in suddenly
Amidst the stretch of a paragraph
As shower of breezes
chirping birds
Flowers of spring
And a brighter day
then slips right into another line
And I am lost again
Between the words
I didn’t choose to read …
A poem
Maybe
or maybe
Someday I’ll write
A poem, bitter
You’ll clap your hands
and it ends there
You would still bite your lips
And suck the blood dry
When someone takes a life
To call it fate
Or maybe
I’ll write one more piece
When a girl went out at night
Few will talk and
Others will listen and nod their empty heads
Autumn will come again
and the child would continue to cry
For little love he doesn’t even know of
He is deprived
This time , someone will
Make a song out of it
And colour it with tunes
I’ll paint , as I can choose
Of love that misunderstood of lust
Of downfall of emotions
Once even I owned
Maybe tragic will love to grow
Over the bed of butterflies that never came out of their cocoon
And some carcass of happiness
That’s left
A little more
Can I love you
a little more
Every day ?
Your eyes
In your eyes
My search is
Over
A little more
today I have loved myself the most
As my skin had your scent lingering
a while longer than other days
Reason
You are the reason
There is still love left in me
ashimabinny's Blog 