When they ask me how I am
“I’m just a little under the weather.”
They think I’m okay, I’ll be fine
But I’ve been so much better.
I remember late nights
And the warm breaths against my skin
We called it true love as you played with my hair
But the others called it sin
Now that it’s over
You’re not mine but her
It’s like a part of me, I always had
That now I’ve started to miss.
The disease of loving people too much
I was born with this disease
Of loving people too much
Painfully, with all my heart
I was born without the ability
To slowly and steadily
Maybe forever, drift apart
When I liked someone
I always almost got too attached
And that would leave me feeling hurt and shore
I realise my heart has been terribly bruised.
She’s sick but not the kind that’s very obvious.
Not the kind that means hospital and medicines and IV’s .
If you were to look at her, you wouldn’t even notice it unless you paid close attention to the way she held herself.
Like her body was a sculpture she’d glued back together.
And when she laughed, she’s got the most beautiful laugh in the way that it’s contagious.
But sometimes her face caved in on itself, giving her away.
Sometimes you can catch the subtle hollows behind the gleaming sparkles in her eyes.
Sometimes she let the sadness in.
Though make no mistake, she was a criminal.
She wasn’t a hollow home that harboured ghosts.
She was filled to the brim with passion.
With love.
She gave love like free candy on Christmas..
She tried to be the torchlight so she could help the ones she loved to see right, even when sometimes her own darkness threatened to turn it all black.
But sometimes she failed.
To be the glue that held together broken parts.
To be the light that chased down the dark.
To be the bonfire to a winter heart.
Though she kept her darkness at bay.
She knew how to be a candle to her own darkness, to melt but to never give in.
She knew how to survive.
She wasn’t unhappy.
She knew how to not let the sadness win.
She was broken, the kind that didn’t need mending.
The world breaks us, and she was sick the way most people are.
Smile, even when you’re trying not to cry and the tears are blurring your vision.
Sing, even when people stare at you and tell you your voice is crappy.
Trust, even when your heart begs you not to.
Twirl, even when your mind makes no sense of what you see.
Frolick, even when you are made fun of. Kiss, even when others are watching. Sleep, even when you’re afraid of what the dreams might bring.
Run, even when it feels like you can’t run any more.
And, always, remember, even when the memories pinch your heart. Because the pain of all your experience is what makes you the person you are now. And without your experience—you are an empty page, a blank notebook, a missing lyric. What makes you brave is your willingness to live through your terrible life and hold your head up high the next day. So don’t live life in fear. Because you are stronger now, after all the crap has happened, than you ever were back before it started.
We had a great time last night. I think I love her. I think I’ll marry her. I think we’ll look good together. But these are only things that I think. What she thinks, is a mystery to me.
She is beautiful. Not downright attractive nor the kind of sexy you’d want to dance with in a strange bar, but a divine kind of beautiful. I can never take my eyes off her. I think I’m in love with her.
But she’s the girl who hates to stay. She’s the girl who loves passionately and leaves devastatingly. She is the girl who breaks your broken pieces a bit too badly. And memories? The memories she’ll gift you are the ones that’d haunt you, the ones you’d never forget. I think I love the idea of being in love with her.
It’s been 6 years since we first met. It’s been quite a long time, eh? I still remember her. Wanna know a secret? I still think of the stars in her eyes on a moonless night.
All she left for me was those moments. Those little, unforgettable moments that filled my otherwise tedious life with a her-like essence. Those seemingly unimportant moments that separated the dust from Stardust.
She visits me sometimes in my sleep. We have long conversations. Last night too, we’d met. We had a great time. I’m still in love with her. And when she told me that all those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain, I smiled in disbelief because I knew that’s something not possible.
supremesoul 