To someone you miss, a little less, or a lot more.
Which part of us do I miss the most? Is it the occasional banter, or the way your lips traced my name, most intricately, most often.
It's December and the sudden gush of cold breeze reminds me of you, Again, somehow I am here sitting all by myself, in the bar Staring
When the world is not watching, She travels back in time, Unraveling the secrets in the gardens of that uprooted mansion, As the walls bleed stories
As the gates open, I watch new faces and the walls of my memory take me back to the time when I was one of them.
Why is it that you are everywhere, but nowhere near me? You leave traces of yourself for everyone to find, but all I get are the
The letters lay open on my table. 8:00 a.m and my phone beeps again, reminding me to close the open chapter of my melancholic