Those beautifully beautiful memories were so painful I was hurting and hurting but the pain wouldn't go away My friends, all these people, they're only looking at me This isn't how I really am but I keep getting farther away
I want to write, write till I can think no more. This inexpressible sufferings, dig a grave of past and responsibilities. It's not okay to scream and pull your hair, when it's spinning, it's a clutter, it's a tornado you wish could end you. No it's not you, it's those thoughts. Or is it me?
I wonder what life is, I'm so tired, I'm so damn tired of hearing about love. Could you please tone it down? I'm trying to breathe, and it has been hard. On me and you. Nothing could save us, not the delusions we crave, not the songs we listen to, not the novels you clutch seamlessly, endlessly. I don't want to lose hope, neither do you.
Voices, voices everywhere, you shake, pause, no, you want to be alone. Alone with your thoughts and misery. This world isn't for me. You sway, you laugh, you kiss, you cry, it's going to be alright you say, but what if it isn't?
The future, the oblivion, the masked fears. Pictures and dreams, fairy lights and ice creams. It's okay you say, there'll be a day, when you would look past the old days. Who am I lying to?
I think I just wanna stay, tonight, tomorrow, forever in your arms .
/ And so it is just like you said it would be Life goes easy on me Most of the time And so it is the shorter story No love, no glory No hero in her sky / - the blower's daughter, Damien Rice
Neon lights, paper plane daydreams. The laughter's and drunken mistakes. You are in my eyes, I'm in your arms. Another step, another story. You are beautiful in street lights that cast shadows on your face. I'm trouble, like the lost girl you met few winters ago. I'm counting, are you? The numbers on the TV screen, or is it the days we have left together, it's a countdown, we are everlasting, I swear. But in my eyes you are always weary, a step away or two, I'm not close enough and you're too far away.
People and city streets, you loved the roads that took you far away, in a new world you would say, in a world where we weren't us. In the beginning of every goodbye, there comes a spark, it burns the brightest, and then darkness engulfs of what's left behind. We never trusted goodbyes, so we left hanging on maybe's.
When you gaze across the street, in the dreams we lived, and the memories we held, do you miss me too? sometimes, when you're not overwhelmed with life and the courage that took every ounce of your light.
Sometimes I'm able to live and forget you Sometimes I meet people pretending to be fine Starting that day, this severe loneliness has become a habit How do you do? How are you doing? I guess I'm not okay You're not here, not even alone I'm trapped in an island known as regret// - how do you do, chani
What lead me to you, wasn't destiny, but plethora of heartbeats, shy glances and mixed feelings. Like the tears that flow after daylight streams cutting pain in parts I never dared to wander. Is it okay to confess that I've adored you in silence and tragedies? In the grey skies I once loved , and the blue ones that stayed, without permission and second chances, they remind me of you, persistent in my thoughts and dreams .
I once wished to become everything I could be, not knowing passion and motivation are rented guests, waiting to get lost in maybe's and midnight sighs. Yesterday I saw a picture of a couple, happily in love and ever afters shined brighter than ever. This could've been us, if my teenage heart and you're gypsy soul could rest and say I love you like we were meant to be.
Toxicity comes knocking on your door, when you're busy baking chocolate cookies in midday summer afternoon, and the door left ajar has nothing but sweet aroma of baking wafting and recalling memories, or so you think..until verbal abuse, late night arrivals with drunken eyes and surly faces become a ritual you wished was a nightmare.
Talking about the good old days, is bitter sweet, some choices you wish you hadn't made and regrets that keep piling. When you stand in the balcony, on looking the city lights, you wonder what you could have done differently..but sometimes there's not much you could control or change, not the moment your eyes met his, and your heart fluttered like in fantasies, the laughter you couldn't hold in, the tears you couldn't hold back, the sorrow that pierces you swiftly, the sobs that made you breathless, and in the moment when you loved him for a lifetime, closing your eyes, whispering his name for the last time.
//All sadness fades into humour eventually// -Unkind by Kacy Hill.
Discussion over a cup of tea with a ghost from my past; each sip making me more aware of what goes on disquietingly behind the screens and curtains before they are drawn.
Regret, a lenient teacher for the masses but for the dim-witted humiliation serves better.
Amiable young children oftentimes grow up to become strategists and baiters and when a poisoned piece of cheese and a mouse are locked up together curiosity changes its form it's temptation that kills the mouse.
Public persona can be outwardly enticing like clickbait headlines, always remember to think twice.
Parent-teacher conference manual says speak less and pretend more emulate other bilingual parents because mother-tongue fluency is a shame and is obsolete.
My son instructs me to say thank you and nothing more he interrupts so that I don't end up making a fool of myself for my accent is disgraceful and I don't understand this alien language but my heart sinks each time my shortcoming tries to shush me.
With time I have developed a revulsion for modern parties where the omnipresent language barrier takes away my right of expression and with time I have learned to say thank you and nothing more.
I bear the brunt of my own plight a condition that has worsened over the years why it feels like the whole world is moving ahead and I am left behind for I don't fit in; I stopped fitting in.