People have different love languages
Some send you the song they liked
Some bring you cake they baked last night
Some are learning favourite video games of their loved ones
Some are watching a boring webseries, 7th season
Some have a cooking video on, to make someone's favourite dish
Some are writing poems, far better than this
Love is not a mere noun
It's also a verb
For people who love differently
Some are learning to love

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Pain brought me poetry. I fell in love with it. So I did nothing to save myself from all the pain. Sometimes we become so greedy of love that we don't mind hurting ourselves for it.

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He taught me poetry
Before breaking my heart
betrayal wasn't a loss afterall

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It's okay you don't have to get it all figured out.

You will do it, all your dreams are not mere dreams.

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For poets like us
the poems we like are the poems we couldn't write.

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THE EMPTY CORRIDORS

The empty corridors would echo the chaos I hated the most
Unaware that this would be the sound I'll miss someday
Looking at the walls that once I scribbled my name on
Whose plaster has been peeling off lately
The tables are still there
Names have been written with markers
Like a territory seized by a king
The pictures hanging on the side board
A little too bright for the dull ceiling
The empty corridors might not miss me
The tables will be reigned by the heirs
The building might forget I once was a part of it
But I?
I will always remember the good old days
Treasured in a corner of my heart
Treasured in the corner of the staircase I loved to stand by.
Treasured in the empty corridors I would miss someday.

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The feeling which half opened books get lying in the corner peeping at the phone in it's favourite human's hand. — % &

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The rage in it's eyes spoke of the thunder that scared me. The deadly stare somehow made me uncomfortable enough to walk my little crippled walk around the room.
Who would have thought that the eyes of my favorite human, which I admired the most would be so haunting when I stitched them to my favorite doll. — % &

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And my heart aches for warmth
I will sush it quiet
Lullabies would rise from the pacing wind
Melodies melancholic tingling from outside the window
A shiver shall run down my spine as I think of you
A summer coat to my winter smile burning in the heat of agony
An umbrella to my winter rains soaking me to the depths of my soul

When the nights are cold
And you're not beside
I will close my eyes and speak to my heart
And when it'll ache, I'll sush it quiet.

— % &

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