Yetesh Sharma

Don’t you move, neither a bit, It’s hot outside and it’ll hurt you bad. So dear are you to me, chirping and eating together, All...

Once there was no sky to turn up to, no land to let the feet rest only if the sun had bothered enough to hide...

I don’t know where my pen falls weak, Where does it become stronger. I know its sparkling now. Aside from numerous visions. Voice in me...

And the night shall fall short to spell, Another rain on the parched blood soaked in airy blue. To let hopes sulk in deep on...