By Kavya Mehulkumar Mehta are poets dumb — or just in love? to the world, they may seem dumb, but for them, love is inevitable. poems are reminders of love that can’t be forgotten, shan’t be forgotten. every piece of their muse is engraved in them. they are built of rotten love disguised as flowers — sweet to them. to the world, it may seem pointless, but poets — their world is their muse. By Kavya Mehulkumar Mehta

By Inayah Fathima Faeez Tomorrow looms unsure, muffled by the deep Thumbs twiddling, barriers never-ending, failure and nothing to reap At the shore lie the choices, imposing, leading to journeys impossible to see Below the crashing waters lies what might or might not be And it all comes down to the passion for a future so azure Love and laughter and smiles and support make success so easy to lure The turbulence retreats into the night, splashing out of the way Newborn vision bright and...

By Inayah Fathima Faeez Some part of us is cold and shrivelled, In a body of seemingly endless depth. Some part of us is heavy and dishevelled, Misery filling an unending breadth.  Some part of us is warm and blooming,  Alive with tenderness birthed from memory.  Some part of us is carefree and breathing, With warmth bandaging wounds of misery. Some part of us waits for an afternoon,  Where there are no holes of absence to sew. Some part of us waits for a full moon, Under which loneliness is...