One day everything will end, just as it is meant to. The dusk will fade into the arms of this dawn, You will forget the promises that you made, like those stars that forgot to fulfil your wishes.
Some say that, "change is constant". Yet, if you had a choice between this moment and the one that comes, you'd still pick this one. Because in this moment you know how much more alive you could have been.
Nothing disappoints you more than knowing the fact that you could have ended things differently. Few reflections merely depict the side which isn't worth seeing.
Pushing emotions away, so that people walk away eventually. There are things left unsaid between the pages of your memoir. Caring did make you weak. Letting yourself down seemed easier than trusting people.
Few things bring out the melancholy that you buried deep inside those wounds, before sealing them with poetry and planting the seeds of happiness. The flowers of hope seldom bloom in the soil of pain.
Ps. Would you still sing to the silent air that continues to touch your soul? Or would you leave this silence with a thought that it deserves someone better?