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VVidsmess.

Vidsmess.

@vidswrites · channel · indexed since 2026-08-25
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Vidsmess.
"Tum chahti kya ho?" Aakhir mein usne puchha mujhe ki "Tum chahti kya ho?" Main khamosh rahi, Agar batane ki koshish bhi Karti toh, Aankhen bhar aati, Aur woh kehta 'Aansu bahati kyu ho?' Pehle shayad uska sath chahti thi, Agr uska dil nahin toh Uska hath chahti thi...! Magar abh mai chahun ke, Bas ek baar tujhe ishq ho, Tera mehboob chahe kisi aur ko... Tu tarse uski aahat ko, Chahe din ya phir raat ho...!! Tu sajde kre har raat aur din, Teri Aankhein roye, Dil lage na uske bin... Aur tu bhul jaaye aapa apna, Tu rul jaaye dekh uska sapna...!! Aur tu pukare usko har pal, Baat karna chahe, Magar woh taal de, kal par... Aur tu khoje usko har jagah, Tujhe dikhe na woh kisi rah...!! Aur tu kose apni kismat ko, Koi na samj paaye teri mahobbat ko... Tu toot jaaye, toot ke bikhar jaaye, Phir bhi tujhe uski fikar khaye...!! Aur tu thak haar ke baith jaaye, Phir sochte sochte meri yaad aaye.. Aur tu soche 'agar use apna leta toh kya jaata?' 'use na satata toh shayad aaj mout ko nhi chahta!'....!!
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Vidsmess.
Photo
I lost my nanu yesterday, and it was sad and hard to accept because I never knew a life without him. I don’t remember spending my vacations somewhere else except at his home. Every time something was going odd in my life, I would run to his place, and his cooked meals would heal everything. I would tell him about my school, my studies, my teachers, and all the stuff going on in my life, and he would tell me so many old stories about his young years, his jobs, his offices, and his colleagues. We would talk about all of it sometimes till 3 am too. I’m gonna miss all of them. He is the most hardworking man I have ever witnessed in my life. He has done a lot. He has inspired me a lot. I have spent most of my childhood with him. Every summer holiday was good because of him. Maybe that’s why I loved the summer season. And it’s sad that he is not here for me anymore. I’m gonna miss everything. I hope his soul rests in peace. Miss you forever nanu.🤍
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Shayar se nafrat ho rahi hai- Ab mujhe us shayar se nafrat hone lagi hai, Uski har ik shayari mein teri baat hone lagi hai.. Jab bhi sochti hun tujhe bulane ke bare mein, Jikr ho jata hai tera uske naye gane mein... Uski har ik nazm tere naam se shuru ho rahi hai, Fir bhi yeh puchh raha hai "tu kyon ro rahi hai?" Aur ab woh kehta hai ki, "shayari ek marham hai tere liye" Abh kaise bataun ise ki yeh khare se khara namak hai mere liye...! Aur ab yeh chand bhi kuchh kam nahi hai isse, Har sham puchta hai "baat hui usse?"...! Ab yeh bhi mujhe sata raha hai, "Aaj kya kaha usne?" "Bta!!" Keh rha hai... Aur ab yeh kehta hai ki, "Mujhse sundar tha na woh? Usmein toh ek daag bhi Na tha?!" Ab kaise bataun ise ki shayad woh abh bhi sundar hai tumse, Usmein daag na tha shayad isi baat ka gurur tha use..!! Aur ab vo puchh raha hai ki, "kaisi ho abh tum?" Shayad bin btaye haal jaan gaya hai, Ya shayad jo bhi tumne use bataya, Woh maan gaya hai...!! Aur abh aisa lagta hai ki, Mujhe chand bhi nazarandaaz kar raha hai, Mera haal sune bagair hi ja raha hai... Aur abh, Chand ko mujhe nafrat ho rhi hai..!
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Audio
2_5255951986368469716.mp3 · 27.8 MB · click to show
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Vidsmess.
It’s October, yet I’m still not over the damage April did to me.
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I now think- Sometimes I think of what could have been different if I had not said it out loud, and then sit there quietly, leaning my time towards regretting the right thing I did. Because not doing it could’ve kept me close to you. I miss the conversations that could’ve happened all these months, the eye contacts that followed after that, It could have stretched your lips, making me smile at every sight. The softness could’ve stayed, the silence could’ve remained gentle, and perhaps, I could’ve kept being close to you- only if I could’ve abandoned myself like every other time.
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Vidsmess.
And then anger became louder because they fed him by staying quiet every damn time.
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Vidsmess.
I'm haunted by my past, yet my heart finds comfort in haunted places.
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Poets can never move on- They say. But I will move on from you. Sure, I might not be called A poet anymore, But I will move on from you. I will stop writing. I will burn everything I've ever written on you- my diaries, my books, every poem I've ever dedicated to you. Everything. I might be hated by my readers, But I'll stop talking to them, too. Because what will I do with their love When I couldn't have yours? I'll let my readers hate me, Because so did you . And honestly What difference will it make? I'll stop bleeding through my pen. I'll empty my mind of every thought of you. I'll stop talking to everyone who ever knew that I wrote. I'll do whatever it will take to find the peace, So that no one ever asks me, "What about your new poem? When is it coming?" I'll move on, No matter what people say. I won't call you my muse anymore, Because I'll stop writing your poems. Sure, I might not be called A poet anymore. But I will move on from you.
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