I just wish my life would have been like a book and I as a writer would have urged myself to clear the pages of unseemly chapters in advance. That life has to go on, I let everything go as I understand. For I can't wait to rival with my own feelings which underpins my weaknesses that played an important role in my unhappiness. But when through flipping the pages, amid those voids, found that I solely am responsible for my failures. Otherwise I would have drewn those pages out. I better opt for a chapter: I admit openly that I myself am filled with imperfections. From the very moment I realise that these voids are to make sense to my sufferings.
•Resurrecting again in her blissful brace tonight•
Hearing her whispering the secrets with the breezes mild, So aesthetic, when looking at her, the winds kissing her hair, seems like roaming through the miles.
Nyctophile word has been added to varun bhaiyya's dictionary, the one who doesn't says no to nights, a cute night owl may be. A magnificent river of puns, delighted human with entire fun.
Our nexus is a precious covalent bond that involves the sharing of love and stable affection and it even evolves the force of resolute invaluable attraction.