POETRY, ALMOSTS & UNSENT THINGS
Under the
Lamppost.
For the things that happened.
And the things that almost did.
“Our hands didn’t touch.
Not yet.
But something did.”
Some things only open when you reach for them.
INTERACTIVE COVER STUDYTHE WAY A FEELING CHANGES
It begins with a little light.
Then comes everything we didn’t know how to say.
SOME WORDS NEVER FIND THEIR ADDRESS.
A letter.
Never sent.
“I folded my feelings into paper
Let them stay locked in invisible envelopes”
You never stayedAbhishek Subedi
We never started
And that’s how
We ended
THE LIVING COLLECTION
What the heart
left behind.
A poem doesn’t have to explain itself.
Neither do you, here.
I will forget you that day!
I will forget you that day when I would no longer feel my heartbeat! / I will forget you that day when I would no longer feel my heartbeat!
Code of Silence
I speak in words I cannot feel, / A hollow ghost behind the steel.
Letter That Was Never Sent!
I was always waiting / For the right moment to speak
Why Do I Write Poems? Here’s Why
“Why do you write?” she asked so low. / He paused, then whispered, soft and slow,
I Wish I Could Love You Back!
I can feel the deep love inside you, / A love so pure, so tender, so true.
THOUGHTS IN THE MARGINS
I.I don’t always want an answer.
Sometimes I just want to say it out loud
without having to make it sound okay.
II.Some nights, nothing happens.
I still have a lot to write about.
III.I kept looking for a reason.
Maybe I was just afraid
of what I’d do without one.
THE PERSON BETWEEN THE LINES
Nepal → Alabama
Somewhere between code & verse.
Read between the lines
const me = {
name: "Abhishek",
studying: "cybersecurity",
stillLearning: "letting go",
unfinished: true
};Some things I can debug.
Some things I have to write through.
I’m Abhishek.
You can call me AV.
I’m from Nepal, studying cybersecurity in Alabama. I spend a lot of time trying to understand how things work. People are harder.
Maybe that’s why I write. About the almosts. The things I said too late. The things I never said at all. Sometimes it’s love. Sometimes it’s just me, trying to understand what it left behind.
I’ve put a lot of myself into Under the Lamppost. It begins somewhere warm. It doesn’t promise to stay there.
AbhishekUNDER THE LAMPPOST · PLANNED FOR DECEMBER 2026
December
awaits.
So do the thoughts
I finally put into words.
A SEAT BESIDE THE WORDS
Stay a little longer.
You’ve read some of my words.
Leave a little of yours.
Little pieces of life between the poems.
Find me on Instagram (opens in a new tab)Some words are meant to be heard.
Watch on TikTok (opens in a new tab)A letter. A photograph. A voice.
Take whichever feels like you.