Author: Ashka Naik

A wild, passionate poet - forever stuck in tomorrow. ~ The Silent Scribbler ~
Fighting the Fire

Fighting the Fire

How many times can you fight the fire that’s in your head until it turns back around to burn down what remains of your rampant emotions? Does it ever tire itself of being so alive? Simple words, simpler existence. This is what you choose because you think you can lap lies around in your mouth …

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The Way Things Had Been

The Way Things Had Been

I’ve forgotten the way things had been. The meticulous stillness of the autumn rain on your pages, the tired exhales of the moon in your words, and the shy quivers of love in your poetry. Trust me, I’ve forgotten. ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

I’m Yours & That’s It, Forever

I’m Yours & That’s It, Forever

look here now, we’ve lost the shadows of our past almost as easily as we said ” I’m yours & that’s it, forever ” , so come, spend the remainder of your light with me, lounging amongst the stars, and learning to love the dark. ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

Reverie

Reverie

I think I must’ve made you up in hasty dreams, parts of you still incomplete, so now I look for your missing face in the pages of my memories, but as the days go by, I realize, I should probably start at the middle and skip to the end, because really, I don’t even know …

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I Might Be Okay

I Might Be Okay

I hold myself together with unflinching honesty, but even my heart knows that I lie when I say that I might be okay. ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

You Know What They Say About The Young

You Know What They Say About The Young

You know what they say about the young, souls driven by the endless thrill of wild love and naive adventures, their stories written with flightless dreams, and a ceaseless will to burn and yearn. ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

Waiting on You

Waiting on You

Some days I find myself floating in the dark, the sound of your voice falling around me like sparks from a firework gone wild, the secrets that you left with me lie numb under my dazed heart, and I’m still  here, waiting on you. ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

My Last Goodbye

My Last Goodbye

My last goodbye was uttered in whispers. Even then, the spaces between my words burned. We were strong, but I wasn’t. You were mine, but I wasn’t. How could I belong to you, when I couldn’t even belong to myself? ~ Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

By Autumn, I Was Left With Nothing

By Autumn, I Was Left With Nothing

Every summer, your hands would find paper only to pick the finest metaphors to create me. I would come alive in your poetry – intoxicated like the summer rain. And by Autumn, I was left with nothing but scattered syllables and a million stories to tell. ~Ashka Naik | The Silent Scribbler

Summer Moved On

Summer Moved On

” Summer moved on without a promise”, I heard your voice say on the other side, as your footsteps walked back to the table where you let your favorite roses die, back & forth, back & forth, back & forth, until your fingers were half an inch from throwing them out, but no – you had …

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Just a Metaphor

Just a Metaphor

You run wild in the streets when the wind blows too hard and the rain hurts your skin, you rake the sky of its clouds and look for me in the spaces between each raindrop, but stop now, I am tired of being a metaphor.