People don't fall in love with others
To feel sad or lonely.

If you're suffering
It's not love anymore.

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When they hide things from you,
In fear of being judged.
Then
Maybe it's not them who's in the wrong,
Rather
It's you who failed to build that trust
in your relation.

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People are too quick to judge
If you cry, you're too emotional
If you laugh it off, you're not taking it serious
If you stay silent, you're boring
If you try to involve, you're being nosy

WELL LET THEM JUDGE

Remember
Crying is not age limited, adults get hurt too.
Speaking up when something hurt you is not childish.
Having anxiety, depression, phobias are okay.
Being yourself and not changing for anyone is OKAY.

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Every time I open up to someone,
They remind me why
I shut my heart in the first place.

Again and again, they make me realize
That it's not them who hurt me,
But It's me who hurt myself
By wishing them to feel the same as I do.

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There is something about darkness.
The more they call it dangerous
The more alluring it becomes.
Drawing every ray of light towards it
Only to wrap them in its silhouettes
And leaving behind pitch black darkness.

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Pitch black room,
Empty thoughts,
Wrapped in silence,
The heart craves something foreign,
While every breath is calling for you,
I'm here waiting for the unknown,
Hoping that you'll be the one
To make me feel alive one day.

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every one of them has your name engraved.

These eyes are always seeking you,
This skin craves your touch,
These ears searching for your voice,
This mind wandering around for your presence
& these lips calling your name.

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Sometimes it's not about love
It's not about friends or family
nor it is about relations and bonds.
What truly matters is 'you'.

Sometimes It's okay to feel lost,
It's okay if you're unsure
It's okay to stay where you are
It's also okay to move forward.
Because all that matters is YOU

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Everyone keeps on moving forward,
While all I do is look for you in everyone.
And then I realized that it's not you that hurt me,
It's me that keeps on stabbing myself with hope.

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To the one whom I'm yet to meet,
Do you feel the same emptiness like I do?
Do you seek for the same warmth as me?
Are you the half of me like I'm to you?
Are we chasing the same things?
Or are we running away from everything?
You, who are the answer for everything,
Are still a mystery I'm yet to unfold.

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