“You are like a wrecked ship in the depths of the ocean, collapsed and eroded but still, full of pearl oysters.”

These poets and their metaphors lied to me/ you never felt like a mountain I wished to climb/ or a stream I would let myself float in/ or a scent I was dying to bottle in/ these poets lie when they talk of love.

Growing flowers on your tongue/ won’t make those lies/ any sweet/ saying that you still/ love me/ won’t make this/ broken trust/ change how it feels.

For once I wanna look back and not sigh.

All my life has been a struggle to know, what to hold on and what to let go, but still, i end up sitting in the corner of the room with a flickering candle, whimpering, naked, shuddering, lost.

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.