From the Desk of Maanvinder: A Poetry Collection: In My Dreams

in my dreams, she was brought back from the sleep

while i laid myself to rest in her place

i was granted one last wish

before i could descent to the deepest parts of hell

in my dreams, she keeps on living

and apocalyptic november never arrived

where i can recall she is gone but she has no memory of it

i just watch her do the silly dance while i cry and thank my god

in my dreams, i was allowed to see her face

and fate didn't betrayed me

i was never present with her in the darkest moment

but locked far away to a hospital bed

Letter

Dear readers, at this point when i'm 20 and looking back on everything in my life, i realised that i have only face the loss whether its of dreams or people, both have haunted my life. I know i sound like an 80 years old writer right now but i'm trying my best to appear cool on the web pages and not super cringe. Entirety of my work, with some exceptions, it is about the loss only that i penned after having very deep conversation with my ghosts at midnight and writing the memories i could recall on a paper and sometimes even use my own diary entries to cause myself further harm. Right now, i stand at a point in life when i must learn to let go but there is one thing that i want which i already declared dead in the past. And that is the muse from my "Campus Confessions" poems, where like a fool, i declared that the story has met its conclusion but it certainly has not. It is still unfolding but under the dark days that i must survive in order to come out alive on the other side of the door, with invisible strings between me and my muse finally bringing us together. I suggest you ignore the last part that i wrote. It is certainly not meant to be for you in general but for the muse behind my work. The delusional mind of mine kept pushing its agenda which was to believe in the thought that maybe that person will stumble across this page and might start thinking as another rant of mine on "unrequited stories". So the sole reason to even write this letter is to address that i still sit at my shore, waiting for the ship to dock at the harbor. I don't want it to be another addition to something lost but undead. Thank You

From the Desk of Maanvinder: A Poetry Collection

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The Quiet Exit

In My Dreams