You say I write dark,
My words are chaotic play.
And how I cherish the nights
While sleep during the day.
But,
Did you see the colour of my pen
How white is the ink it spreads?
And How lightly I hold it in my hand
While highlighting Your name with it.

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I wonder how it feels, being understood.
To know your words are taken a note of.
When you speak you’re not afraid of being misunderstood or to be judged.
I wonder how safe that love feels like, which takes all your worries and bury them away.
Just so you can live and your pain be dead.

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Love,
You were not toxic.
But the memories we shared killed every rose that bloomed.

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And you tell me I am not loved,
In ways I never knew I could be hated

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You and I,
we are absolutely nothing.
But sufficient for a moment to suffice.

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Did God announced a masquerade?
Why on Earth
Everyone is wearing
a mask these days?

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Love is a morphine, that eases the pain.
But love is also a reason, people die in vain.

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How distant can the past be?

As distant as you want it to be.

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I was drowning for no reason
He taught me how to float.
I was suffering with emotions
He taught me to let go.

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You are a vision of tomorrow.
How can you expect, that you will make sense to today?

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