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A Poem by Zoya
We're all made of skin and bones,
Of soil and maybe some clay.
We're made of blood and oxygen,
Or that's what people say.
It is the basic skeletal..
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A Poem by Zoya
words
are everywhere
every now and then
I hear the most
worthless of tongues
hurl fancy phrases and words
at their beloved
meaning, you se..
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A Poem by Zoya
I saw you
hurry down
the dusty path
to my house
the clouds
that had kept me company
all these days
were now clearing away
the sun was ou..
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A Poem by Zoya
Poets, they say, have sad endings.
Guns, ovens, rivers.
Breathing, one moment. Falling silent, another.
Poof. Gone.
Poets, they say, never exist..
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A Poem by Zoya
last night
it wasn't just water
I bathed in
it was a pond
full of mistakes I made
and regretted fiercely
but at the end of day
was grateful..
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A Story by Zoya
Life was never the same after I found myself traversing those broad, mirage-stricken roads.
The thing about big cities is that the moment you en..
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A Poem by Zoya
I could hear the silver clanking in my pockets
I reached out for it
your dirty face, hungry lips,
lonely eyes
it could've made your day
b..
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A Story by Zoya
The sky was dark. The room was cold. And I had a nightmare.
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A Poem by Zoya
And the corset tightened.
I gasped not for air,
but for the scent
of dew drops
on the crisp, sun-soaked grass,
the aroma of the fresh leaves
s..
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A Story by Zoya
Josh Moore was a poor man. He led a bad life, a sad life; was twenty-five, no kids, no wife. Just an old mother, who croaked more than she spoke, was ..
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