Every version of me wonders if the next one got it right.

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i leaped high into love,
blinded by heights, deaf to the shove,
i held it close, too scared to lose,
yet it slipped- like mist, diffuse.
my head began to grind,
the turmoil tied behind,
my chest sunk deep down,
bore two hearts and it drowned.

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I wonder which is harder!


carrying the weight of what you left behind,
or,
carrying the void of the part you took away.

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Introverts be like: 'talking to the same few people on snapchat, tg and wp'.

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Love came swirling around to me,
dancing bare feet,
to the rhythm of my heartbeat,
when I didn't want it.
I pushed it away for the longest I could,
standing still,
hid everytime it knocked my door,
butterflies suffocated me more.

-

As I saw, I recalled.
(in caption)

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'Cause I know I'll be fine.
(In caption)

-

i'm still standing at the place,
from where i left you,
i thought i could,
but i feel blue.

(in caption)

-

You're my moon and I'm the night, you fell in me as I crawled upto you.

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"Lately I realised everyone has a story and some want to tell 'em too. When the lights are off and you're laying on the bed thinking about all the stuff going on and the things you've to do, you've got another story spunning behind the back of your head and when there's no one listening to your part then, you're re-playing that story in your mind being casted on the ceiling."

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