I hope you aren't a fan of tragic love stories.

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Another day another reverie

Did my words dry up Did the thoughts finally shrink and shrivel up so much that they refuse to bleed on paper anymore Do I not drink from the fountain of experiences any longer Or perhaps not bring my own cup to the party to fill it to its brim  Do I no longer crave for more Is this what being satiated mean No more yearning Is this also a death perhaps Not the dramatic bloody one But a more dignified complacent quiet one or do I perhaps judge too harshly Myself and my abilities As always my worst critic Twilight whistling past the window No more broken panes of glass But this time a sturdy wooden window Painted brickred with white curtains framing her Small plant tubs line up on the edge Some days a little bird comes by to visit me It doesn't sing of romance and life But of lovely meals and romanticising the mundanes I miss my fervour and our youthful wonder But this fine day nothing irks me more than the lost words  I should have filled the pages of that pretty diary of yours...
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Old friend

Someday soon I'll stop vying for attention I know this familiar feeling Like an old friend with a sad smile on her lips Knowing eyes filled with sympathy and regret Hoped for a better ending this time You and I both Yet we somehow keep running into each other Stuck in this merry-go-round forever Destined to be each other's muses Rejection and me. I couldn't write you letters Ink bleeds me dry I refuse to shed tears over the same old patterns repeating themselves Duty? What of it? Don't feel sorry for me, I beg Your pity is worse than your scorns Such peaceful snores I wanna strangle my dreams Like the last bit of whimsical poetry you tore from me Throw your money and your big words back at you. Carry my rebuttals like a badge of honour Your name on my hands Dried up wounds Baked to your skin Blood and bones Lies and more Light leaving your eyes Innocence shining still The night is quiet Your heartbeats loud My pathos knows no mercy Just like your shrugs. #reverie
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Looking back at 2016 me

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2016 me probably deserved so much more love than she let on Love that could encompass her, hold her tightly and heal all those jagged corners sticking out in sharp edges as defensive barbs She was self conscious and so ruthlessly bothered about her appearance She disliked her body, her skin, her hair, her complexion She envied others for those same things that she covetted She hated how she looked Craved affection and attention from all the wrong kinds of people Was jealous of the people she probably should have befriended and taken inspiration from She was so unhappy about herself that envy became second nature to her She was unknowingly unkind and mean and such a big pick-me However, she was so energetic She loved poetry and art and photography She tried so hard at everything And felt so much I wish she could know that she was soon going to be loved and understood and cared for despite everything, inspite of it all, and all that love would be overlooked by her 'cause love doesn...
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