What happens to the stories that weren't shared?
Of dead people who had kissed a stranger at a concert once, and never told anyone, what happened to that kiss?
What happens to that stories that have no moral, no value, no life lesson attached to them?
To stories that are ordinary to strangers, but mean something to someone. To stories of love and loss, of pretty revenge, of lies that never discovered, of truths that never told. Stories of confessions that were never made, and of confessions made too late.
Stories of words that still haunts your insides but were never let out, stories of dreams that were too dirty to be discussed, of nightmares too realistic to be narrated.
I read somewhere that we tend to forget things that we don't talk about... but, do we? Do they stay in this universe, secrets lingering in the air, words that don't matter anymore, but could have changed someone's life once?
What if the people leave, but the stories stay. What if we become... one of those?-
What do you mean we're playing with feelings... It's not like anything serious, okay?
We just like how it tastes, friendship that blended into love just the right way, for two hearts that are so f*cking afraid of feeling, falling, failing yet another relationship and so if we let it stay like this, I mean love is for fools anyway.
I mean what could go wrong if I just close my eyes everytime we hug, if you hold me tighter these days, if we keep looking for reasons to spend a little more time, if I sometimes call you mine, if we play it so well, we almost forget it's a game somedays. I mean it's under control...right?
It's not like I get jealous everytime you touch someone else.. I mean okay yeah..maybe sometimes I do, but at least I don't crave your voice when you aren't around, okay maybe sometime that happens too, but at least I don't expect you to fall in love with me or anything, I mean.. What if sometimes I do.. at least I'm not in love with you.. except sometimes I am in..love with you.
I mean what if we just lie down under the stars and tell each other our secrets.
-Sttf ❤-
Hey!!!
Express your feelings...
Because life is short and we don't read minds
♠-
He tells me he has a particular taste in women and I listen quietly, my thumbs brushing over my sweater, the winter breeze burning through my skin,
He tells me she has to be this and that way and I know immediately know that I'm not his type... What does a 'type' even mean, I whisper, as his meet mine from a distance, I can see that excitement on his face.
He smiles more often than I had imagined, he seemed pretty serious when we first meet, maybe he's eased off into being around me? Maybe I make him as comfortable as he makes me feel adventurous, maybe that's not true, maybe I wish it were... It's 7pm now and we're sipping tea from the same cup as its rain outside and his hands mindlessly slips into mine, does he know how I feel when out fingers collide? Can he see it on my face, the rush of blood through my veins?
The drizzle sounds beautiful, the music is terrible but I have realized I love everything when he's around, maybe I love him too... Shhh what if he can read my mind
F**k I love him.. No, I mean.. I.. It's infatuation.. And I'm not his type anyway-
Heyy!!!
It's me again....
How long has it been?
I think that's the worst part about not talking that I don't even know how are you doin'
I once thought we'd last forever and now I don't even remember the last time I heard your voice.
So why can't we make it simple...
Why don't we tell each other that our 'I love you's" mean more than we let on, that the silence between our whispers demand affection, that we are too scared to fill it with love.
Why don't we tell each other we look forward to hugging each other's insecurities, to kissing each other's loneliness.
Why don't we tell each other that we are little less lonely when we're together and these evening are good enough to last a lifetime.-
Hey,
I know you left me but you leave the little things behind you which still bothers me a lot!!!
Songs you liked, books you recommended and coffee places, how you handled my mood swings - bits and pieces of you here and there.
Maybe that's why it's so much harder for me to move on.-
Hey!!
I hope you are doing good.
I just feel like talking to you
I know it will not be the same but it's just your voice that makes me calm at this point of time.
No, I don't miss you at all
I just miss the way you treated me, I just miss your voice that echoing in my mind no matter where I go..
I just want to hear you like the way I did.
❣-
I have a thing for the way breakups breathe
The way destruction takes centre stage to dance on my skin
But I had held you like homecoming, because what else could you be
The push and shove made me fall but was it only me?
I'm sorry I tied to stitch your ring finger to me. Didn't they tell you love makes it harder for us to breathe, because when I pressed your face on my lips, when I tried to hear your heartbeats.
I didn't know the kind of tragedy we were gonna be
It's been 246 days today and my heart still aches for you. There are 20 things in my to-do list but my mind only craves for you.
I heard somebody said you look happy with someone new
We were never together in love, I didn't knew we wouldn't have pain in commons too.
Your laughs still haunt me in my dreams, tell me if my apricot scented memories make it hard for you to sleep.
Do you pretend to eat this pain and fake a smile through your teeth
Or do you, just like me, like the way breakups breathe?-
How's it possible to feel so disconnect from your own parents, the very people you love to death, the very people that made you, that taught you everything about your living...how is it possible to feel so fucking empty in your own house, in between the very walls that hold two decades worth of memories.. Is it me, did I mess up my own mind.. Is it them? Did they somehow just stop trying to understand each other, to understand me.. Is it this house, these walls, suffocating us.. Calling it nostalgia..
Whenever my mind start messing with me, I end up disconnecting from the nice people that I know.. It's like, I don't want them to see me being so ugly.. And I just start craving a broken person to fix.. I guess it's a way of distracting myself from my own broken pieces..
🍁-