of men and saints

with me,

love & longing,

they alternate.

i spoke of men, and saints,

and a parade in the rain,

but that turned into a fatal flaw.

to catch up with my feelings,

i need to be someone,

who creates with pen & paints,

for a while.


Hey guys! I was thinking about changing my blog theme. I thought about updating it on New year’s day but I got sick then, and with February approaching, today is the day! I’ve been on WordPress for 2 years now, yay! I made this blog to keep me motivated to write and it’s done just that.

Thank you everyone for your support. The upcoming cheesy rhyme is for you all.

I’m not the best at maths,
But I’m happy with these booming stats.
I’m not good with numbers, but I’m really grateful to the 300 followers.

of pen & paints

& i needed poetry to prove that i am alive,
you sauntered in like my time was yours,
to survive your lackluster life.

letter by letter, words emerged,
and a sentence that read,
“i am fine.”
the dictionary lost its magnitude there for a while.

my inkpot was leaking,
the truth was intimidating,
you diffused yourself into my desultory rhyme.


I love songs that are a bit sad but sound happy, like a melancholic kaleidoscope. I wrote this about the people and other works of art that inspire me.

Thank you so much for reading!

talk of the town

you look like poetry,
everyone told you,
but then i came along
& felt it too.

they said you were special like their favourite song.
travelling with my headphones on,
i never listened to the whispers around,
but then you stood in front of me
& i could hear them clearly.

you wrote to me that i should write down what you tell me,
your thoughts are like lyrics, filled with profundity.
it was the most pretentious thing,
but then i heard you sing.

you just love to prove me wrong, don’t you?

an ache i couldn’t locate

why do i wrap my memories in nostalgia?

they’re filled with pebbles i picked off the ground.

it’s a bias i love to carry.

they’re covered in sunset hues and pink cotton candy clouds, tied with branches that intertwine and grow around town.

why do i put my home in my pocket and take it with me wherever i go?

just to rearrange it when i’m alone or for when i’ve taken off my coat.

why do i make everything about me?

my own
my home
my decorations

my scars that won’t heal
my flowers that keep on dying.

i’m in every photo i see.

all the shelves are full,

i don’t have any space left on me for a gift store.

things are never going to go back to normal,
i’ve really got to stop my crying.

but then

why can’t i do anything…

-aarushi (i kind of love how this one turned out. it’s ten days late, i know i know. happy new year everybody. hope you all are settling into it well, best wishes, much love 🎀)