First Draft
Arif and Farzana love story
Arif and Farzana met on a fresh harvest time evening in a clamoring commercial center in Lahore. The city, with its lively tones and chaos of sounds, felt like a material of life. Arif, a youthful craftsman with an unkempt facial hair growth and an energy for painting, was meandering through the slows down looking for motivation. Farzana, a writer with a peaceful presence and an affection for books, was there to track down old compositions and uncommon volumes for her assortment.
By Arif zaman2 years ago in Poets
Scars to your beauty
What magnitude of pain can hurt? What is the measuring capacity of the human heart to bear, to accumulate in its precipice before it finally seeks redemption, before it concludes to itself no more? How ironic and disbarring it is to moan about the loss of someone after their demise after they bury themselves on the deathbed or even more unbearing when they bury themselves in their essence. If they bury themselves in their breaths, they break their souls, they pierce their hearts and shed every ounce of their aching identity that constitutes their trace.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
