Whatever I write is what I have loved
Whatever I do not write is what I have lived

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life is a dream you chose to live in or live as..

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Childhood is a dream I still wake up for..

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**3 centimetres of wood away**

I rushed in and shut the door behind.
A million stars weren't following me anymore..
Misplaced alleys, that slept with the dying shimmers of an afternoon,
except for some rats and the homeless,
I didn't hear them call my name anymore..
The sweat on my back shivered being just 3 centimetres of wood away from an aimless rain..
Crashing on cremation pyres and crimson corpses,
Only to end up gasping on the edge of a window pane..
When an air around you is dry of some unimportant sinner's sabotage,
you breathe it..
I breathed them.
Almost all,, until it felt like suffocating on some mellow lyrics of a lullaby..

For on one side of the door, there was a world..
And on the other, mine.

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In a residue of some leaking lights atlast..
I saw the wind on a frosted glass...

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Followed by some blank pages...

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Not like the bird you set free..

But like the sky you cannot cage..

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Why do the crickets call tonight, not so loud ?

Why do the stars gleam tonight, not so bright ?


Is it only because I kiss you, not so fast ?

Or is it also because I hug you, not so tight ?

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*mistaken moonbeams*

But the footpaths still grow, you know
Under mistaken moonbeams
From some broken lampposts..
That run like cat's cradle
In an amateur's hand..

But the stars still align, you know
For you to get tired,,
Numbering even half of them
And ask me to lower my shoulder
Just a bit..

But the rain still falls, you know
Beads on my window panes
Calling on us to forget,
The umbrellas
Just one more time...

Then why do you,
Still deny..
To meet me anymore?
Is it really due to...
A situation somehow?
Or is it due to a mask?
That is suddenly,,
So visible now...

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Sometimes, all you need is just someone,
To hold you close..

Not tight..

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