Labyrinth Of Suffering...

somehow his talks about all the cravings i have had or will have...but mostly it talks about how i crave for the touch that i can never have the way i used to.

“You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago.”

— Alida Nugent

690 Kilometer.

The distance between me and my past is not very large…690 km to be precise.

Did I run all the way here or rode some cloud of power I don’t remember?

Funny I ran so hard and so fast and I still find myself under.

Every morning I find something crumble…is it my soul, my mind or just another blunder caused because of my dropping eyes and my body aching to lay in a deep slumber.

The wind…

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Snape: Miss Granger, pay attention or serve detention.

Hermione: Make me.

.

.

Draco: (in a distance) like one of my french girls.

Hermione: What

Draco: What

Snape: What

Hogwarts: What

Covid-19 has taught me once again how I have been taking the simple joys of life for granted, like the road and sky on a calm and easy day.

Do you ever have those days when all you want to do is read angst so that you can make yourself feel things for life has been too numb for to long.

THE POST

ME: the day I join TUMBLR my first post is going to be funny and people will die laughing.

ALSO ME: (First day at Tumblr) I have no idea how to post anything. I am not funny. Why did i came to this site. I'll die alone.

is this love?

it starts by listening to the same playlist on repeat,

its Finneas, Dean Lewis, Banners, followed by Benjamin, Grey

and a touch of sugar, spice and everything that peirce my heart.

I find myself wondering if the poems say it out loud

or the songs add the missing harmony

sometimes I find it in lines traced on old yellow pages

and at others in the random flowers pressed between…

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One day you will realize that you are not the center of the world and that...is...okay.

someone who realized this long ago.

The Story...

The Story…

I knew a boy,

little scared and little weird.

he knew a girl

little sad and little scared.

they sat together, wrote together

songs of distant past.

and that’s the story of …

he loved flowers

she loved stars

he would weave her hair

while she would fight the ants.

and that’s the story of….

she would put stones in her pocket

he would put buttons on dresses

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Best Friends to Friends to

Best Friends to Friends to

I went back to our old home, the dusty roads and broken gates, dying trees and new nests and the old shop light flickering. I stood by the park swing near the dry water fountain, is it strange that I can still hear mumbles and laughs in the air. I went down the road and saw the rusty red building, once called home because of all the highs and lows lived in it. I went in through the old gate…

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