“What a waste of scar if it doesn’t remind you of strength.”

Her heart is graveyard of lovers, promises and scars.

Some of her addictions were weird. They have heartbeats.

Anxiety is way louder than it sounds, I want to speak but i am short of breath.

I have been to places and left my heart in few. None of them felt real, none of them felt like you.

You are healing and you are doing good, like the crescent before becoming full.

Nothing is more beautiful than two broken hearts healing each other.

That damn fire she was so proud of, burnt her own bones.

I’m sure stars and moon run out of laugh, every time a lover promises pluck one of them.

Now that i am numb, i crave for pain.

Flowers only wither to bloom again. So shall you break, only to be whole again.

The wars you create, will be fought by your children, for the people already dead.

I will calm my heart with time and turn us into memories.

Stars must be fed up of hearing your name every time they fall.

Someday your pen will write a revolution. Until then, write your pain.

So many people around you, none like you.

More you are hurt, more you have the power to heal others.