I carry a heart that worships without limits, knowing it will be the death of me

Aanya Jain

Aanya Jain

I have always loved as if I were starving, offering pieces of myself to mouths that never asked to be fed. I mistake hunger for affection. I give myself away not because I am whole, but because I am fractured—trying to join this mass of bones with the plaster of something fragile. It feels like a shame that I bleed tears instead of blood for the people I love. And oh, how I confuse silence for safety. I call it devotion, I call it ruin, and still I dare to call it love.

They say love is holy. But what is holy if not sacrifice?

And wasn’t I always the one burning? You never asked me to give, and yet I laid myself for you to see, ribs open like pages you never intended to read.

And still, I whispered thank you—as if being consumed were the only way I knew how to be seen.

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Bio: Aanya Jain is a student with a profound love for writing. Her poems often revolve around love in its many forms, carrying an essence of heartbreak, healing, and the little things she notices in everyday life. For her, Writing, is the only way of truly expressing her inner thoughts, where she tries to put emotions into words that often go unspoken.

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Setu, October 2025