If only you spoke to me as much as i wanted to speak to you. All it would take was a hello. So as you leave now. All those stares that we gave each other into the pits of our eyes will end up being just past moments and nothing more. What did those longing stares mean. Was i not enough to let you come to me. I was waiting. A present to be opened. I'm sure i could have let you feel more than anyone else would've

The feeling of wanting to set that one person free but also hoping for that person to come back in your life.

Is it selfishness?

Is it stupidity?

Is it loneliness?

Or is it love?

There's so much I wanna tell you. I think about you everyday. my letters are white, but they dig deep and make my eyes water. This is what being away from you feels like. my heart feels like a home of yours more than it has been any of mine

A thousand times have I said it to her and to myself: the most beautiful is also the most sacred. And such was everything in her. Like her singing, even so was her life.

You don't know what it means to be loved by someone who's tired, someone that despite their inner bitterness, they try to love you with all the sweetness in the world and despite all of the chaos that lives within them, they tidy themselves up for you.

Missing alive people sucks, like we could actually do something about this but whatever

Mujhe ab nahi likhna aur nazm,
main thak gaya hu.
mujhe pyaar kar, mujhe chhoo tere hathon se.
main tere hathon ke taraf dekh dekh ke,
thak gaya hu.

mujhe maut kyun nahi aa raha,
main jee kyun nahi paa raha.
tu kyun hain itni zaroori,
main tere liye zaroori kyun nahi ho pa raha.

In dreams she's mine, in reality she's a dream.

Vice versa

I'm such a slut for casual intimacy. Like yesss rest your chin on my shoulder while we're in line at the grocery store, I live for that shit.

To look into her eyes is to be bathed by the warm winter sunlight

How brave your heart must be
To stay soft and tender still
When you've given and given
Till you're emptier than you've ever been

Under the blanket of cold moonless night
all-encompassing canvas brimming with stars
i was asked to speak about your eyes
i said your eyes are effervescent and infinite
I was stupefied and silent,
me being the man of words, how ironic!
what use of words against the beauty?
i simply raised by head towards the sky
pointed my fingers to the pole star and uttered
“this is how her eyes are look like, maybe she is made from the same fabric”

Out of all the flowers, you

If I can just hold on to you in a way that, not even air can come between us