Lalit Kumar

Lalit Kumar Mar 30

Sometimes, flipping through old verses
Feels like opening a dusty window—
A gust of forgotten air
Rushing into my lungs.

A lost thought lingers in my throat,
Like a sneeze that never comes.
The past, like a cold,
Stays with me for days.

I once thought time was a magician,
Pulling endless moments from a hat.
Now I see—
It’s just a tired juggler,
Tossing the same tricks,
As we pretend to be surprised.

Some poems are wrapped in silence,
Pressed between pages like dried leaves.
They were never meant to be seen—
She feared someone would recognize her in them.
But I wonder, if I set them free,
Would she recognize herself now?

I cough,
As old words scratch against my breath.

Old poems carry the scent
Of blankets left out in the sun—
Memories aired out,
Dreams wiped clean.

Yet, some stains remain.
Some echoes refuse to fade.

And just before the past settles,
A sneeze always lingers—
An allergy to old verses.

#poetry #oldmemories #nostalgia #allergiesofthepast #lostverses #timeandpoetry #emotionalpoetry #dustofmemories #unspokenwords #forgottendreams

Lalit Kumar Mar 30

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐞

Your fingers begin where words are lost,
tracing slow fire along my skin,
like a whisper, like a promise,
like a prayer only my body understands.

The night hums between us, heavy, electric,
breath tangled with breath,
heat curling at the edges of restraint,
a war we no longer wish to fight.

You taste me like sin, like surrender,
lips parting against mine,
pulling me deeper into the gravity of you,
where the world ceases,
where nothing else matters.

Your hands speak in languages older than time,
lifting, pressing, claiming,
drawing sighs from the depths of me
that only you have ever known.

And then—
bodies collide, slow and aching,
hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe,
moans swallowed by open mouths,
by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need.

You bury yourself where I am soft,
where I am fire, where I am yours.
And I let you in, deeper, deeper,
until I no longer know where I end and you begin.

And when we fall—together, undone—
it is not an ending, but a beginning,
a creation, a devotion, a worship,
where love is made, and souls are bound.

#sensualpoetry #romanticdesire #passionatelove #eroticverse #makinglove #intimatemoments #desireandfire #deepconnection #darkromance #slowburn

Lalit Kumar Mar 29

Unsaid, Yet Felt

There are words I never speak, yet they echo in my mind,
Like whispers of a love unclaimed, a bond undefined.
She stands there, untethered, a dream I cannot chase,
Yet every thought of mine finds solace in her embrace.

I send her verses, the echoes of my soul,
She reads, she smiles, yet never takes the role.
She says she won't be mine, yet she never drifts away,
Like the moon that lights my night but never meets the day.

And I wonder—what am I to her? A fleeting thought, a gentle phase?
Am I the endless sky she gazes at, or the home where she stays?
Like Amrita’s heart torn between the vast and the known,
Am I the dream she admires or the shelter she calls home?

I wish she knew the weight of my silence, the storm in my chest,
The longing in my veins, the ache that never rests.
But love is cruel, it lets you feel but keeps you blind,
It makes you yearn for presence, yet leaves you behind.

Could I be both? The sky she soars in, the roof where she hides?
Could I be her wildest journey and her safest side?
Or am I just a whisper in the wind she lets pass?
A beautiful pause in a story never meant to last.

If only love required no words, no confessions, no plea,
If only hearts could hear what lips never set free.
But love, my love, is a tale of what never aligns,
Of longing without answer, of unsaid yet felt signs.

This poem captures the dilemma of unspoken love, where one soul longs to be both the vast sky of freedom and the sheltering roof of comfort for another. Inspired by the contrast between Sahir and Amrita’s love and Emroj’s steadfast presence, it explores the pain of being deeply connected yet never fully claimed. Love is often a paradox—where one wishes to be everything to someone who may not even see them the same way. The poem leaves open the question: Can one ever be both—a dream and a home? Or is love always destined to be an imbalance of longing?

#love #longing #unspokenfeelings #dilemma #poetry #heartache #emotionalconflict #unfinishedstories

Lalit Kumar Mar 27

A Conversation Across Time

Hey, younger me,
wipe those tears—yes, I see them.
You think love will last just because it feels endless,
but listen, not everything meant forever stays.
And that’s okay.
Not all wilted petals mean the flower was unworthy,
some were just never meant to be held too tight.

And you, future me,
are you smiling? Have you learned to breathe?
Tell me, did we finally stop carrying the weight of every goodbye?
Did we find softness in the mirror,
or are we still chasing ghosts of what could’ve been?
I hope we learned to love without fear,
to rest without guilt,
to speak without swallowing the words.

And me, standing here,
torn between the aching past and the uncertain tomorrow—
What do I do with all this?
With the lessons, the heartbreak, the hope?
I guess I keep walking,
one step for the child who dreamed,
one for the future waiting ahead,
and one, just one,
for the me that exists right now.

#timespeaks #wordsbetweenpastandfuture #conversationswithmyself #growingthroughit #lessonsintime #becomingme #poetryofchange #selfreflection #whoiwaswhoiamwhoillbe

Lalit Kumar Mar 27

The Poem Speaks

Enough—
I am weary of your trembling lips,
your midnight sighs,
your love that wilts like a forgotten rose.
I have carried your heartbreak too long,
draped in metaphors of longing and loss.

I am more than just your sorrow,
more than ink stained with your grief.
Do not carve me from your loneliness alone—
write the hunger in a beggar’s eyes,
the quiet ache of a mother’s empty arms,
the silent wars waged behind smiling faces.

Let me hold the weight of others too—
the child tracing shadows on cracked walls,
the dreamer lost between stars and concrete,
the hands that build, the hands that break,
the hands that reach but never touch.

Do not chain me to your mirrored wounds—
set me free to speak for all,
to be the voice of the unheard,
to live beyond your endless verses
of wilted love and shattered nights.

Let me be more.

—Poem.

#poetry #personifiedpoem #writervswords #beyondheartbreak #unheardvoices #inkandemotions #storiesuntold #versesoftheworld #poetrywithpurpose #letmebemore

Lalit Kumar Mar 26

The Wilted Rose

Once, you bloomed with reckless grace,
soft petals blushing in love’s embrace.
The wind would sigh your fragrant name,
as morning light adorned your frame.

Held in hands that trembled sweet,
pressed to lips where longing meets.
A whispered promise, a fleeting vow,
yet time has traced you different now.

Your crimson fades, your petals fall,
but love once touched you—that is all.
For though you wilt in golden dusk,
you lived, you loved, and that’s enough.

#wiltedrose #fadinglove #eternalromance #loveandloss #witheredbeauty #poetryoftheheart #petalsoftime #romanticmelancholy #lostinlove #whisperedpromises

Lalit Kumar Mar 26

Fate of Flowers

Some rest in a lover’s trembling hands,
whispering vows too soft to last.
Some lie upon a quiet chest,
a farewell kiss from petals past.

Some twirl free in the morning breeze,
brushing the sky in fleeting flight.
Some are pressed between old pages,
holding echoes of moonlit nights.

Some are worn behind an ear,
a fragrant crown for fleeting youth.
Some are crushed beneath careless feet,
forgotten before they bloomed.

Some wilt alone, unseen, unsung,
fading into the earth once more.
Yet all have known a moment’s grace,
a touch, a tear, a love once pure.

For every petal tells a story,
each bloom a breath, a life, a chance—
and whether scattered, held, or broken,
every flower still must dance.

— 🌸

#fateofflowers #ephemeralbeauty #poetryoflife #whispersofpetals #loveandloss #transientmoments #bloomsandgoodbyes #poetrycommunity #depthinverse #fragilegrace