The Salted Pen

Ink for the wound. Salt for the soul.

[thesaltedpen]

To love is to test oneself

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

We all are someone’s broken dream

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

खो गया जो इश्क़, अब सिर्फ पन्नों पे बाकी है

The love that vanished is now but ink on the pages.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

इश्क़ में इक ऐसा काम कर जाऊँ,

मिटा के अपनी हस्ती, तेरा नाम कर जाऊँ।

In Love, let me do one such thing,

To erase my soul, and leave only your name there.

— The Salted Pen

[tumharidesiladki]

"Is shehar ki sari ronaak tumhary wajood sy hai. Tumhary baad hum is shehar ko weeran likhengy".

[thesaltedpen]

कुछ इस कदर मैं तेरे इश्क़ में गिर जाऊँ,

खुद को खो दूँ और बस तेरा हो जाऊँ।

May I fall for you in such a way that I vanish entirely, and all that remains is you.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

Survival is the primary instinct of any creature, and only love transcends it.

What more proof of its weight this world need?

— The Salted Pen

[mxzarine]

Itni shikayatein hai tumse,

Ki ab lafz bhi khafa hai.

Translation-

"There are so many complaints against you that even words themselves are upset."

© mxzarine

[thesaltedpen]

We are gods of affection trapped in the machinery of minutes.

A creature built to hold the sun, yet found counting the seconds in a cubicle.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

We are pressured to bend our pillars until our own houses fall.

Only for the world to stand in the rubble and mock the ruins they designed.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

Even the void has a story for the ear that knows how to wait.

For silence is never empty—it is merely a truth that refuses to shout.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

So much wisdom is lost, unknown, trapped behind the walls of different tongues.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

Happiness and sorrow are but light and shadow cast by those we hold dear.

Be wary of who you walk with, for their weather will soon become your own.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

We draft our sons into the art of the blade while leaving the brush to wither.

And wonder why the world knows only how to bleed, and never how to bloom.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

If I am to be your ruin, let it be a masterpiece of wreckage.

For I have no use for a ghost that is only half-haunted.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

Love lives in the shadow of effort, content to be the ghost-work that builds another’s joy.

— The Salted Pen

[thesaltedpen]

The masterpiece of being is painted in the long, slow strokes of waiting.

— The Salted Pen