Itch And Ire.

Over time, when bitten enough, The body can build up tolerance To mosquito bites So that they no longer itch. Then— though you might be Bitten a hundred times On each hand And again— on each leg You are not bothered. Advertisements


There’s a part of me tracing back memories, I feel this heaviness in my chest; the weight of your words on a frail, little heart. I love you backwards, From the last day to the first. This way I know your favourite song before I know your name. Loving you backwards comes easy.

Wrath Of Monsoon!

Anyone who says they love the rain either 1) doesn’t live where it rains much, or 2) doesn’t work/go to college yet. It can drain your energy, frizz your hair, and if you have ever had an injury, you’ll definitely feel it on a rainy day.


When I started off as a child, my life was white. White as canvas to be filled with extravagant metaphors. White as snow; ready to fall with grace and rise steadily. During adolescence, it was all yellow. To be yellow is termed as a significance of confidence. Vincent van Gogh referred to the colour as … More Colourful.


Woke up with a headache, It’s the dawn of a warm December, The air smells of bonfire, Rusty leaves and amber.