“Hidden in the ashes, of a fallen building lays a child’s family photo, with whom he could never unite in life.”

Sometimes your heart was meant to break, so these broken pieces of yours can bloom in a garden of self-love.

Work on yourself only when you want to, & not when you are expected to change, to fit in a unit society.

You don’t miss them, you miss the version of them, scripted in your mind. Maybe it’s time for you, to change the actor of your story.

City light appears as stars on the ground, but creates an illusion, of an ideal city that never existed, hides the dark & dusty secrets.

Eases our darkness into daylight. Oceans apart, but what remains the same, is our eyes gazing at the same moon.

They may seem like the perfect fit, for your incomplete puzzle. But they’re not the right piece.

Together now, new reside in the album of our gallery. People on this camera roll never came under the same roof again.

You’re like the number zero, you accept the position where the world puts you at. But, that same zero holds ten times more value, when placed at the right position.

I’m off to find what I’ve lost, in the darkness of love with a lantern in my hand. Just one more piece & my heart shall be fixed.

Memories are homes that I visit, to write the ending of an incomplete story. As it forever stays constant, when people leave.

Maybe one day, I will reach the shore just in time before I let people’s opinions drown me in the ocean of my mind.

They may seem like the perfect fit, for your incomplete puzzle. But they’re not the right piece.

You need to be broken, to let the rays of hope in. Every broken piece can be fixed, it’s the glue that has to settle in, let time do its magic.

As a child, I loved playing hide & seek, but now it seems like I’ve been lost for a long, & no one is looking for me.

Forgetting is power, & not a weakness. For if we could never forget how would our wounds ever heal.

May your lips convey, what your heart has buried in.- A one-sided lover

I had been playing for a while, and I asked Louisville Slugger to send me a dozen flame treated bats. But when I got it, I realized they had sent me a box of ashes.

The teaching must not only consume you, but consume itself as well. All must be burned to ash, and then the ash must be burned. Then, and only then, is the Ultimate realized.

You could move.’ —“Dear Abby” responds to a reader who complained that a gay couple was moving in across the street and wanted to know what he could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood.

Fighting fire with fire only gets you ashes!

Ash, I want you. Bad, very very bad. But you deserve better than this

Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.

But Ash, I can’t continue to want you from a distance. To love you and not have you. I’d end up in jail if anyone tried to touch you and God forbid you tried to date someone.

Is there a chance? A fragment of light at the end of the tunnel? A reason to fight? Is there a chance you may change your mind? Or are we ashes and wine?