Why Do Heartbreak Comes From People You Least Expected From?

The art of focusing on yourself and rest leaving on God is the golden way to live your life .

Cuz the problem arises when we start doing things which are not controlled by us or not in our reach

The main devil in any person's life is HIS/HER RESTLESS MIND

Try to train your brain through meditation, self love, journalising, setting goals

সকাল তখন ৯:৩০ টা যখন আমি তোমার এই কবিতাটি দেখলাম। তুমি আমাকে ট্যাগ করেছ। উঠে এই কবিতা পড়তে গিয়ে বুঝলাম জীবন কতটা সংক্ষিপ্ত। আমাদের সেটা পূর্ণভাবে উপভোগ করতে হবে। শেষ হতে পারে কিন্তু শেষ হওয়া মৃত্যুর মানে নয়। মৃত্যু একমাত্র অপশক্তি নয়।

আজকে বাংলা ভাষা দিবস, আর সকাল সকাল এত সুন্দর একটা কবিতা পরে মন ভোরে গেল ৷

Thanks for the tag!! 💗✨

বছর শেষের লেখা (2023)

@amar-hiyar-majhe ei nao অন্য একটা লেখা দিলাম 🙃

YOU'RE BACKKKKKKKKK

Mastii

one fine evening (better to say night), I was humming "জীবন যখন ছিল ফুলের মতো পাপড়ি তাহার ছিল শত শত" of Kobiguru Rabindranath Thakur..

when I sang the line "বসন্তে সে হ'ত যখন দাতা ঝরিয়ে দিত দু-চারটি তার পাতা..." my baba came to me and said, "beta, tui eto bhalo gaan korish, gaan ta chaliye jetei partish"

That moment I felt je "gaan ta ami khub bhaloi gaayi". My baba is a person of perfection and he is not like those jara sobh somoye for every little thing lok ke praise kore.. So I felt glad when my father told me that. He never praise me that much... So it made me feel a little proud about myself...

Still you can't.. Hahaha

I’ll let you give me an embarrassing dak name

Lmaooo... Lemme think for a sec! Umm.. Uchingre lmao..

you can't, cause I am not slippery..

Its okay. I will wear knee pads and then slide

Still you can't.. Hahaha

"I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life." -Virginia Woolf.

If death has a flavor, it will still be less bitter Than the day you left me, a shadowed quitter. In the shadow of sorrow, where memories linger, I trace the outline of loss with a trembling finger.

In your absence, the world lost its sheen, A dull, gray canvas where color had been. Birds that once sang now silently grieve, Echoing the sorrow that you’ve made me believe.

The sun fades to grey, in a sky full of tears, Each droplet a whisper of our vanished years. Your absence, a wound that time cannot heal, A sorrow so deep, it seems almost unreal.

Each moment without you is a teardrop's fall, A silent whisper through an empty hall. The scent of loss lingers in the air, A fragrance of memories, too heavy to bear.

The taste of despair, a dark, bitter wine, Pales next to the anguish that is wholly mine. For in every heartbeat, a void echoes clear, A reminder that you are no longer near.

I wander through our memories, faded and torn, Clinging to remnants, by time worn. Your laughter, a ghost in the quiet night, Haunts my dreams, a spectral light.

Yet in dreams, you return, like a soft, fleeting song, Bringing a moment of peace where I feel I belong. But morning arrives, and the sweetness is gone, Leaving me empty, as I face the dawn.

The morning light, once a gentle gold, Turned harsh and cold as the tale unfolds. If death has a flavor, it's sweet in its rest, Compared to the ache lodged deep in my chest.

If death has a flavor, it’s a taste I won't fear, For it's gentler by far than your absence, my dear. Until then, I endure, with a heart that is shattered, Knowing no taste could be more bitter than what mattered.

If death has a flavor, a final sting, It pales in the shadow of your leaving’s ring. For death is a promise of a closing door, But you left me stranded, yearning for more.

Bitter is the taste of unspoken goodbyes, Of empty arms and unanswered cries. If death has a flavor, it’s a fleeting breath, But your departure is a living death.

-Varsha

love, it's like changing seasons. there's the warmth of summer passion, where every touch feels like a sunbeam. then comes the cozy fall, where love settles like a comfortable sweater, familiar and comforting. winter may bring its chill, testing the strength of connections, yet leaving room for the warmth of shared blankets and laughter. spring, oh, it's the renewal, the blooming of love, where each day feels like a fresh start. love, in all its seasons, is this beautiful, ever-evolving journey.

@fiercethorns | “love in seasons”

It's the 13th day. No steps taken by the people who need to take steps.