Apatheia by Aakriti Bhardwaj Singh
The storm in me has come to a standstill,
a whistling wind paused the play.
Is it contentment or mere indifference?
I’m not lifeless, but it seems
my heart has become a cavity.
It’s not nirvana but apatheia,
a feeling of blocking your feelings for everything.
Nostalgia by Aakriti Bhardwaj Singh
Woven in the tapestry of recollections,
folded and tucked away for a rainy day.
when the void is difficult to fill,
bridges by the river
in moonlight kisses.
Souvenirs of time
beckoning to bask in a blissful familiarity.
Sky / She by Aakriti Bhardwaj Singh
The sky gleams with different shades,
an indifferent pale-white flames up in burnt orange blending into shades of raging reds.
At times the ribbons of pink kiss the velvety purple and pirouette into pigments of midnight hue.
Yet when we paint the sky
all we think of is a cerulean blue.
As if she is only expected to be calm and subdued.
A gamut of colours adorn her every day,
but her destiny of a perceived undertone seems frivolous.
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