Souls do not weigh much. Not at all- that they can outdo the lightness of a feather and even the barest of all wrecked hearts. Souls- too delicate, that they stray upon vibration of the thinnest air. You see, I have a soul. It will take me. And I will let it. And as for you, who is a soul wrapped within a soul- if the air takes you, then I shall let you go.
I look at you as if I am looking at a photograph, knowing exactly what place and season it was taken. I look at you as if I know exactly which parts of your face get to be touched by the light. I look at you as if my old capture of your smile hanging bloodless on my wall is not the only role you'll ever play in my life.
When will you understand the concept of my being here? That I am here, ready to interpret your random glances into dying for help. That I am here if you need someone to lace up your shoes, to dry away your tear-laden tissues, and to save you from all the rules. I am here. Notice me. Walk upon the shelf where I sit nearby and see me. See that I am here –looking past the people, promise, and warmth just to snuggle my sight unto its righteous home- that is you.
Still I ask, when will you understand the concept of my being here?
I hope you remember yourself well-enough tonight. Because we all know how fireworks are proud, and loud and glittery while sadness is illuminating at its own sky, somewhere in the year-long night living inside you.
We were younger than our feelings. We were far behind the perfect time. We were searching for that hour between midnight and the next minute, only to know that there is no such thing - not even a lie. They said "True love waits" -but they didn't tell us what will happen after all the waiting.
When this world has deprived you Land beneath your feet, Air for you to breathe, Hope to grant you sleep, I will be here. And I will write Of you, For you, To you- I will write a world through and through. No matter how all edges has pinned my arms on the tamest grounds, still I will write of one true wild. I will write a world made For you, especially for you- To survive.
You need to get out of bed. You need to get a life. They said. Yes, I do need to get out of bed. All these lying in bed without Winking a **** sleep Is mocking my sheets To shame. I do need to get out of it. Also My pillow Almost Smells like the sea. Salty drops of moisture Wasting themselves in the sponge That is my pillow. And it’s like the sea to me. The sea and its lust in drowning me to life. The sea I always create. The sea that dries up Before the morning light.