through worn childhood threads, my home seams apart. · part two of woven shreds.

where the eyes stay awake, yet colour in them is asleep. · part one of woven shreds.

Amidst these seasons of my life I'm stuck in a really long winter With no hopes for it to end soon For even the frozen flower Waiting for spring Has reached its limit To withstand this cold noon But despite all that, It still is, a flower in bloom. ──────────── [A short story] 14.10.22

random diary entries and reflections i have at even random moments ._.

She knew that her work wouldn't let her rest, Was aware that every day would be a test. It was her passion though, to see the last smiles, Although they haunted her for the longest of times. He was a wonder in this world, Possessed a heart of gold. His heart bled for every atrocity the ummah faced, His Soul shook every time an innocent was shot dead. She couldn't believe that he was hers, And he was on a mission to never see her in tears. She remembered this when a cry escaped its cage, And knew that he would love her even after his last breath.

No matter how close you are to them, there are certain things you just don't say. No matter how lonely you feel, there are certain people you just don't befriend. No matter how much you've fallen, there's always a guy you shouldn't give your heart to... Sadly for me, I learnt the last one only after I had gotten my heart broken. They say that you shouldn't look down upon anyone, or you will be put in their situation and made to experience the crisis. When I was fourteen, I had rolled my eyes at a girl who was sobbing histerically over a guy who liked her best friend. And I was probably paying the price for that now. However, I was trying my best to fit my feet in the shoes I had been given. I was trying and I was managing just fine. What I didn't need was a trouble maker who entered my life without permission. The guy who claimed to be bowled over by me, the one with a broken heart. Little did he know, I had entrusted myself to Al Malik, The Owner of me and my heart. And if he had to reach me, he had to do so by pleasing Allah. Which wasn't possible for a guy like him. Or so I thought.

the skies have spoken to me, it's our conversations that i write.

❝ My dear daughter, this letter is the answer to your question the one you always asked this is the story of how I met your mother....❞ [A short story] 22.06.21 02.02.22

whilst you only see stars glint in my eyes, i hide a cosmos under my hijaab.