“The moon is witness of all the nights I’ve spent waiting your return.”

This soul of yours has lived a million lives before you. Listen to it, believe in it. It knows the way, it has seen it all.

There is freedom in loneliness. A kind of freedom that hurts. The kind you wish you never had.

Is it a boon or curse I wonder; to feel another’s pain so much to consider it my own? To moan another’s funeral as if it were my own?

I had a playlist of his name. Of songs he would send me now and then. Now every song I hear is a ghost of him. A reminder that he is here. But he is not.

How does it feel to have everything and still suffer from the lack of it? I have all the love in me, but without yours it means nothing at all.

The ache in my bones have owned me all my life. Your love is finally setting me free.

They say body is nothing but the dress for the soul. So does this mean all my pain and all my tragedies are now tattoos on my soul?

The Love in your eyes will forever hold a glimpse of me.

The greatest longing I will ever have, is for the love I always deserved but never received.

For without tragedies there is no life & what is life if not all our tragedies put together?

If your eyes could speak what stories would it tell? Would it even be able to speak or would it end up choking on all the water?

This ocean of love swallowed my paper heart whole.

Love built me and then, ruined me.

And when instead of flowers your heart grows thorns – that’s when you know it does not love.

I cry because I don’t know how to help you, but I can’t even help myself.

Be my home. Be my peace. Kiss my wounds & bring me peace. Is it really love, if it cannot heal?