One thing I know is that we're captured in the frames
Of dead and dying pictures when suppression was a name
Ever since that day, nothings' been the same
When our dead and dying frames were laid to rest in graves

The company we kept,
Aware of beast that slept
The loyalty we paid to earn
Via trust, it was a test

Concepts of romance
Led us an exhausting dance
With lust untamed, demons unnamed
With each rattling breath we exhaled
And the graves still look the same

Here lies dignity,
My memories, my sanity
Self-esteem and vanity
Ripped apart antiquity
And after all this, finally
Accepted into society!

Dear Picture-in-my-head,

I wish I had you for my reality instead.



Your star spangled banners,

your dim faded lights,

that alan walker music

misty, misty night.



Him,

from the corner of eyesight

letting his frown drop,

asking me in. Our time.



An audacious vivacity,

the merry sliding down of unhinged desires.

A mating of intellectuality,

less of skinny lust, discarded mask and pride.



Wafting smell of earth drenched in season’s first rain,

halting words breaking the initial stranger pace.

Cups of ginger tea than ***** and ice,

living the moment than getting drowned in haze.



I could whisper my secret wishes -the one that involves a mountain top,

a leather jacket, bullet ride

an unfaltering speech – woman of the moment,

a potential done right.



You could tell me about that night you cried,

That misunderstood age

Your favourite cartoons,

And their funny ways.



We could draw the clouds on our palms,

The ones that compliment a picturgasmic sunset

Feel the lightness of solitude,

the sweetened somethings in the nothing.



The breeze would crash against me,

Before it hit you softly in the face,

And it would feel just right,

To let you have a bit of me this night.



It would be good, or even better;

but it’s just stuck in letters.

For it’s a trapped swansong – in a party with people I barely know,

and wouldn’t want to, at the end of the night.

The feeling of loss is indescribable.
It's a feeling that none other comes close to.
It's a feeling of being utterly alone and helpless.
The good thing about loss is it's the one time people show they care.
It's the one time everyone comes together.
It's the one time you are given company when you believed you would be alone forever.
It's brings a sense of loneliness with a touch of hope.

You haunted me
all through the night
thank you
for keeping me company
darling
please do it again

Your calling ends and I, instantly, am
eagerly awaiting the next. You change
me from introvert to extrovert, causing
me to seek out your company - you are
the warm place to restore my energy.
This is the week which will last a winter,
and this snowfall turns to vapour
as you thaw my frostbite.

Dear solitude,
I have forsaken you
because I'm no longer
safe in you,
and safe is all I long to be.

I'd love to recoil within myself
but that only worsens my diagnosis,
That only pulls the trigger
of my metaphorical gun
until I want to hold a real one
and aim it at my clouded head.

Dear solitude,
Somedays you're the master
and I'm the slave,
recoiling until the outside
is an intruder,
But now I need the outside
to pull me out of the quicksand.

Solitude, you can't always be
my cheatsheet to pass the test,
Sometimes to win, I need to expose
all the skeletons I've tucked away
in your locker.

Solitude,
You were my morphine
but now my morphine has
brown eyes,
a face-lighting smile,
a heartbeat,
and arms I can crash into
whenever you hunt me down.