A Monday Morning. 

On a random Monday morning like this,  

I woke up to the sound of downpour

When I sat by the window,  

Holding on to few things. 

A hard cold cover on my thighs,

And a vapour mixing with the skies. 

Only and only, 

My Page-Turner that’s never out of sight

and the coffee,  a best friend of every night.

On just a random Monday morning like this,

Was just the beginning of a Heartfelt Romance. 



Whenever you don’t feel loved. 

Whenever you don’t feel loved. 

Sit back and think if you ever loved enough 

Open your arms & embrace something better

Whenever you don’t feel loved,  

Remember that there are many like you Waiting to just be known. 

Mostly,  whenever you don’t feel loved 

Step forward,  to love yourself a little more. 

And someday you will thank everyone for not loving you enough.

Wild goodnight’s disguised in patient armour. 

Said He,  

On one of those restless nights

Spread your life, 

Let me love those scars &

Wipe those tears .

Giving to feel some pains till I 

Hear some groans .

Undress all your worries &

Let me guard your troubles.

Limit your Insecurities 

Show me your fears.

Turn off the Webcam 

Close your eyes & 

Go to sleep 

Just to have a Goodnight. 

Will you ?

(Image Courtesy : My sister) back then when I had really long hair.

Do me a favour sweet little hon,  

That bridge ?

That disconnected your world,

and deceived your happiness 

That put you in the water,

and pushed you till the swamp

That did nothing ,

but only several harms 

Go,  Go. 

Burn it.

To those unfinished dreams.

To dream is a feel,  

But some Unfinished,  Unhappened

Dreams put us down

Pats us low ,

Breaks our crown 

In the course of time we still never

Stop dreaming,  

We just stop believing in them. 

(Have you felt like it too?  )


(Image Courtesy : My beautiful friend,  Manisha.)

I intimidate people with my silence, 

Infuriate them with my insecurities 

Swear them off my care, 

Nauseate them with my fears .

I fold and crush like a tissue ,

But yearn to be refined without any excuse. 

I grow under layers of grimace ,

But hold on to memories for days

I crib,  I cry .

I hurt,  I try .

I  approve some punches to make things right. 

I fail , I’m extreme .

I choke, I scream.

I hate sitting on a floor so dry,

But I swear,  I’d be worth a try. 

To hold my mess together ,

Cause it’s better late than never. 

Thank you for reading  🙂 @quiescentlistener 

Can’t wait. 

A seventy year old me , would pain in not putting in effort for the things I want 
Would try to peep in their hearts than their social media accounts 

Would love to sleep in a dark night wrapped along a blanket of stars 

Would still wait for a love letter

Would not be as fragile to worthless situations

Would not be scared to be lonely. 

A seventy year old me would be the outcome of managing persistent worse situations, on bearing utter patience and moderation. If that it’s going to be. 

Believe me,  I can’t wait to grow old.


A while in a not so far away place was the struggle of a human ( as per how you relate ) living up among the absurdities of situations, winding in repulsive grimace, hiding under the layers of how many times he has been given up by every inch of everyone who could possibly would have been everything to offer, striving between those mediocre mornings to serene nights and with feelings so ineffable questioning how possibly  everything turned upside down. You know what’s their biggest loss?  

Thinking that it was all their fault

If you are making the same mistake,