I cannot show it,
Because how can I?
It's not that,
I never tried,I did,
So many times,
To show, to feel it, to be vulnerable,
But never saw, felt, or even understood it.
So, I was a mountain when it rained heavy in my yard,
I was a stone, even in tumbling currents,
I became sand, slipping through the fist cracks,
I become what I don't want to be, just because I couldn't bear,
The pain, anguish, and hurt,
Are just fancy expressions,
I become someone I don't know,
Yet I have always been her.
Thought so many times,
Just for a while,
Even with all the rationale in the sky,
The endless objectivity of life,
And all practicality of my mind,
When my breathing becomes heavy,
While I weep at my soul,
And my blood flow through the narrow lanes,
Just to hold me tight,
Just pick up dead cells, cracked bones,
To make a pile,
To make me see,
Do make me see,
At least for this moment in eternity,
I wasn't deep, dark, nothing, and alone.
-
I suppose, my thoughts and me,
Just want to be left alone,
I think through the night,
My thoughts wander around sea,
And I believe to sail through the ink blue sky.
-
Living with anxiety is having a imaginary friend, who is constantly questioning everything in you, around you, and with you.
-
If I could fly,
Through time,
Through ages of being lived,
Through ages to come,
If I could fly,
Would I still choose you?
Would I still have chosen you?
Seeing all the pain,
Seeing the marks, we leave on each other souls,
Seeing how we destroyed each other,
Would I still choose you?-
Living in the digital age is bizarre. We stay in an entirely different country far from our familiar environment but still, daily calls makes you feel like you live next to your family and friends, who live in different timezones; it seems they are just next to us, still sharing old and new stories. You feel alone and but also connected at the same time. You might not have connections near you, but then you have so many meaningful bonds with people who you have barely glimpsed in ages. The digital age is weird.
-
Some of us are born with it,
We feel the slightest change in the wind,
Rain on the face, the colour of iris,
The sound of water, the smell of earth,
But then,
We also feel the hollowness in that empty street,
The gust of wind whispering in your ear,
The haunting old buildings bathed in sunset hue,
The voice in your head which slowly makes you realise about side-eyes strangers are throwing you the way,
The smell of shirts of your previous lovers,
The dust accumulated in your storage like it is also laughing at you,
The lost sense in music,
Some of us see all the greys of the world.
-
We can't unlove someone whom you have truly loved. You just move on. Wandering, wondering, exploring, growing, waiting, learning and breathing.
-
Some evenings you want to feel it, everything still fresh, still raw. It just hits different now, and you still want to feel it again.
-
All of us have boxes,
Some are easy to open,
Some are easy to share,
Some have too much empty space,
But them some are too small,
Too hidden, Too chipped, Too rusted,
Too hard to open.-