Abstruse one

Even if it's in the middle of the night and you need some truth , I'll come over . I'll be the mirror you refuse to see ..... I never cared about  The light  In someone's eyes  For me . It was always about  The dark pretty things  Behind them ... The sad part is ,for a writer ,when the love fades and we have lost the one we love, our words become orphans once more .....its hard but sometimes you have to learn when your part is over in someone's life . ....

She came in one day and asked for a tattoo across her chest . if it's okay , get as close to the heart as you can,she said "I want something more permanent that he ever was .nothing aches this old heart more than reading our old conversations. Looking at the small things that made you instantly happy ...  No beginning just an end  Like before  We are strangers Again ....  Each night , she would write him a poem after he'd fallen asleep .his words ,the start of her day each morning his wakeup call would be her reward .his voice,the start of her day .

It's all because of words.they say if a writer loves you,you live forever. That was not a defeat . that was just a heavy fight . he was to me what 3am thoughts were to insomanic and he remained the unsolved puzzle of her life . She forgives him it seems, Bt he is still  Playing with fire  And her tears  Are made of  Gasoline  #my story is in him . and every terrible and wonderful thing,I ever did in life led me to him. Then he tells me of all the things he finds wrong within himself ..but I overdose on his anyway 

Tiny black symbols called letters that turn into words.... The problem is so many of us let a stranger purchase  our love with a smile .my biggest mistake in life has been losing myself,and expecting for someone else to find me .Truth is,no one can stay faithful anymore because we're no longer satisfied with the attention of just one.  Silly boy, Do not fret  I'm just a girl  With flowers in her hair  Dream on her lashes  And  A warrior heart I'm nothing  But what they call  An art  #Constantly turning him into poetry makes me feel like he's still here

Lump . . All we need to do is let go of the one and take hold of the other . we hold onto a lump of clay when diamonds are within our reach. Being unable to answer a question does not mean that the question is unanswerable . we are unable to see whoever,or whatever is above the fog of ignorance or why and how various objects descend through that fog and enter our life .how can you see the heights when your eyes cannot penetrate the clouds of unknowing that surrounds you ? The more tragic the memories ,the better the words . to make everything so hollow and still beautiful . he isn't here bt she lives ,each day with his shadows walking down the streets .. Unable to cross the bridge and the distance by the heart.

the feeling of forgetting something keeps it alive -trust me on this . we as humans remember only two things happy and sad times not neutral ones . happiness resides in a perpetual possession of being well deceived. Allow yourself to be proud of yourself of your scares every mistake you attempt and all the progress you've made especially the progress that no one else has seen . trust your madness factor . we mature with the damage ,not with the years . You can't rewrite your past but you can grab a clean sheet of paper and write your future . You shouldn't try to stop everything from happening it's a process .sometimes you're supposed to feel awakard .Sometimes you're supposed to be vulnerable in front of people . sometimes it's necessary because it's all part of you getting to the next part of yourself. Some day we will find what we are looking for or may be we won't maybe we will find something much greater than that .FOR A STAR TO BE BORN THERE I...

My window with dust  She was forced to be weak since she first felt her existance she could now hear her father yelling that she is a girl ..do i know how a girl looks is she is like me wait ​how do i look like ? Is she ugly or what will i'm going to harm him or he has never seen a being like me whom should i ask to am I a abnormal child ....i opened my eyes the first thing i saw was my mom's eyes so large with so much of hope in her eyes i dont know how she had so much hope in me as if her world stopped looking into my half opened eyes but i was clueless i saw a strange man walking towards me no he was not my father someone  with white coat I turned my head and saw no one except two ladies who brought my mom to hospital ..and dad I still had his memory but he was not in sight ..As I grew up  i got to know that man was my dad. I don't know what his definition of a girl was .  I saw mom crying I assumed a girl should learn to start crying this was the first thing ...