Her blood lips and pale face was a moon in the night
He held her with gentle whispers of things unsaid between the two
The thick, dead silence of only living words
but death to strike them down with bullets hurting like swords
When they first met
He gave her a pen
She left him with words
He was her first
She was his first
A forbidden love
But she had to let him go
He couldn't take away the pain
She died with the words "You were my first, and only love, I love you"
The paper got lost in the wind.
And so did he.

A thousand memories are made,
Every night and day,
Polaroid or mere time,
Memories that you will share in life.

Looking back, you will feel,
Nostalgia a feeling of longing shall reel,
Every scent and song from the past,
Will evoke a memory in your dream.

Floral perfume from mothers locks,
Mixed with dirt from  childhood fights,
The smell of paper and endless books,
Is it exams or the fright?

This familiar emotion of delight,
So very strange and foreign,
But in empty roads of memories,
It's a feeling you've never forgotten.