Posts by Ishu Uppal

The Sparks In Our Stars

Sometimes I wonder if stars are sparks, Of the eyes that refused to be lost, In the engulfing darkness of sorrow. Still cradling a tear or two, perhaps. For I

Son Of A Spy

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> My dad is

The Science Of Love

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> It looked like

How Tears Tear You Apart

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> A tear slides

Cup of Hope

Each dusk, I store all my tears in a cup before I cry myself to sleep. They sublime into nothingness overnight, but leave the saline traces behind. This gives me

Theist

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The Final Fall

The sight of the cliff diminishes as I fall below. Perhaps, it is the cloud that blurs my vision. Or it could also be my tears. I had been there

Migrated Colours

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> “Paint me for

Ice Cube

You let me go. Your trembling hands loosen the grip. I slip between your fingers. I kiss the air, ecstatic. My chill sublimes into nothingness. Death seems just so beautiful.

I’m very happy for Sania Moorza winning the Wimbulldon…

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