“All this sadness longs to be touched.”

My god! this love it will make a fool out of us all.

The voices in your head are lying, i tell you this world never stopped you from flying.

So, what ruined you? -hope.

There is a wild in you which thrives in places and on days, when, even the sun in you couldn’t survive.

Hope has never looked the same twice. Pain has never looked the same twice. Love has never looked the same twice.

I remember my mother whispering me every night, if you don’t hold that little light inside you, the universe will let go off the hold of you.

Isn’t this loneliness a strange poetry? you want everyone to read, but you are never willing to write it down.

I will feel whatever the fuck I want to feel.

And nothing that will be touched, even with the tiniest of love, shall continue to live the same.

We are what this world refuse to carry. So we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves.

And that is how time heals, not by erasing but by blurring all the memories.

I am not home for somebody else’s trauma.

Too much of what I write takes me back to you.

Even if you look for peace in the places you won the war, you will not find any.

I am trying to talk about love without biting my tongue.

Whatever I feel is not a choice, but dwelling on it is, so I stand up and walk and walk and walk a w a y.