POETRY BY KA

  Your Smile, My Light Your smile is everything to me — a sunrise in my storm, a warmth that melts away my fears, a peace I never knew I needed. And I know... my smile is your world too. When you see me glowing, you feel alive — as if your soul breathes through mine. I never want my silence to make your heart restless. Even in my lowest moments, my heart is always smiling for you. Because in this chaotic world, we are each other’s calm. Your happiness is mine, and mine… is yours.                                 KULSOOM AFZAL

🌑 "The Bite Wasn't Love" He bit my skin, then bit my truth. Called my bruises lies, and my silence — proof. Exposed my wound to his mother, as if shame belonged to me. But I remember — his grip, his smirk, and my body begging to be free. That wasn't love. That was ownership masked as affection. Pain disguised as power. But today, I write. Today, I name it. And today… I begin to reclaim it.                       KULSOOM AFZAL

"There’s Something About Him…" There’s something about the way he holds my silence. He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t demand. Just waits — gently — like someone who’s afraid peace might slip through his fingers. He says I soothe him. But truth is, he soothes me too — with his trembling voice, his quiet care, his fear of losing something he’s finally started to believe in. He doesn’t want drama. He doesn’t want power. He only wants peace. And maybe… just maybe… we found it in each other.                                             KULSOOM AFZAL

🎈“The Birthday That Wasn’t” Just twenty days into her marriage, she wanted to make her husband’s birthday special — a simple dinner, a moment of joy. But even joy had rules in that house. She stood before the mirror, her heart fluttering like any new bride, but her choices weren’t hers. His mother picked the dress — dull, heavy, not her style. Hair straightening was forbidden; "it will raise the electricity bill," she barked. A bun was demanded. It didn’t suit her, but it satisfied her . The red lipstick — her favorite — was rebellion. She wore it anyway. They went out. Just the two of them. For a few hours, they laughed over Thai soup, shared bites of steak, and tasted what normal love might feel like. The bill was 8000 rupees, the price of a memory. But the memory wouldn’t survive the night. When they returned, the mother cursed her own son — not for a sin, but for eating steak without her. The next day, she turned her venom on the girl. “Wasting money! Disrespectful...

🌸 When Love Blossomed Everywhere I didn’t know love could arrive like this — soft as petals, silent as healing, gentle as dawn. It didn’t come to complete me… It came to see me. To sit with the parts of me no one stayed long enough to understand. In his eyes, I found a place where my poetry didn’t need explaining. Where my silences weren’t awkward — just sacred. Where I wasn’t asked to shrink… I was encouraged to bloom . And now, it feels like blossoms everywhere — in my breath, in my days, in places I thought would never grow...                                       KULSOOM AFZAL

"When I Finally Looked" I never cared for pictures, never dared to look too long, afraid that seeing might open a door I wasn’t ready to walk through. But today… I saw him — truly. Not just a face, but eyes that whispered stories I didn’t know I needed to hear. In that quiet gaze, I felt everything. The kind of love that doesn’t shout — it glows, just like my face did, under the warmth of his silence. His eyes didn't ask for attention, they simply found me — and somehow, without a single word, held me.                              KULSOOM AFZAL

  Why I Hit Back: A Survivor’s Boundaries Are Sacred There’s a moment in every survivor’s life when they decide: never again. Not another betrayal. Not another slap. Not another violation of their body or spirit. My moment came in 2024—months after surviving years of emotional abuse, trauma, chronic illness, and even a near-death ICU experience during COVID-19. A New Marriage, A Deep Old Pain I got married in April 2024 with hope in my heart and healing in progress. Like any woman, I carried with me not just dreams, but scars—both emotional and physical. One of those scars was from my battle with COVID-19 Delta in 2021. My lungs collapsed. Only 5% of them were working. I spent time in the ICU. Doctors had to drain fluid from my lungs , and to this day, I still feel needle-like pain in my upper left back. So, I did something simple: I told my husband , gently and openly— “Please never touch that part of my back. It still hurts.” I thought I was safe. I thought he understood. But...