Words were so unprepared when I thought of writing to you, I went blank, found myself pounding hard with a numb sense that`s cribbed me.
Now,I try to taste the time frame when we were together.Since the day we chummed our paths apart, you reached miles, while I was still at the locus.I founded self so left out,could hear constant loneliness.
Intertwined in your mesh of softness,sometime we know
things are not going to be the way it was, yet heart finds its sorely bitter to trade it. Memories always remained soaked, restringing remnant of sweetness and contempt. I never intended to bracket you in my criticism, neither would I hit you with words that may make you as a hypocrite. I just want to spend the rest of life imagining, lying on the ground moving fingers, drawing arbitrary shapes to the black hammock sky,every night, trying to envelope the moon with hands, I know it wont be the same like it used to be.
I could sense, never will I be able to connect the stars, how many it may be in number, you will always be missing among all, you were the dearest.
I am at an ease now and words could find a way to conduit, feelings emoting, oozing out the pain, the pain I inhaled. I feel so stolid,but there is still a ruffling. My heart is still in a turf floating to reach your esplanade, this time I am not letting it to sail away. Who will take care of it once it is shattered like a crystal ball, I wont be able to collect the broken pieces of self, neither I will be able to see it sniveling in pain.
Sometimes, it feels like alright to breathe in when you know the air around is impure,yet not fatal.
Sometimes it fine to test our austerities.
Sometimes loving self, caring for self or prioritizing self is not such a band thing at all. How much I may not feel cast out, my words will always sublimate me in its fleecing warmth and let me peek for
a ray:a hope.
Now,I try to taste the time frame when we were together.Since the day we chummed our paths apart, you reached miles, while I was still at the locus.I founded self so left out,could hear constant loneliness.
Intertwined in your mesh of softness,sometime we know
things are not going to be the way it was, yet heart finds its sorely bitter to trade it. Memories always remained soaked, restringing remnant of sweetness and contempt. I never intended to bracket you in my criticism, neither would I hit you with words that may make you as a hypocrite. I just want to spend the rest of life imagining, lying on the ground moving fingers, drawing arbitrary shapes to the black hammock sky,every night, trying to envelope the moon with hands, I know it wont be the same like it used to be.
I could sense, never will I be able to connect the stars, how many it may be in number, you will always be missing among all, you were the dearest.
I am at an ease now and words could find a way to conduit, feelings emoting, oozing out the pain, the pain I inhaled. I feel so stolid,but there is still a ruffling. My heart is still in a turf floating to reach your esplanade, this time I am not letting it to sail away. Who will take care of it once it is shattered like a crystal ball, I wont be able to collect the broken pieces of self, neither I will be able to see it sniveling in pain.
Sometimes, it feels like alright to breathe in when you know the air around is impure,yet not fatal.
Sometimes it fine to test our austerities.
Sometimes loving self, caring for self or prioritizing self is not such a band thing at all. How much I may not feel cast out, my words will always sublimate me in its fleecing warmth and let me peek for
a ray:a hope.
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