Turnings that make Circles.

If you think it isn't random, then I guess you should not look so closely. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Heh. Memories and pictures, when you look at them for too long, you feel like you are part of them. You were part of them. That's where the suffocating, nearly choking, nauseous nostalgia begins and it takes you far away from the present. "Picture perfect memories". We never had pictures. Every time your eyes become stagnant for even a second, a favourite part of the past begins playing and everything else is just an oblivion; till some one shakes you and says, "knock knock, time to be back?" Jealousy? Well it's a whole lot less now. It's what you become accustomed to; but no matter what , the heart does get silent when the beautiful melody of the flute ends and leaves you feeling and wishing there was more. Haha. Not the jealousy, but those moments that were beautiful. What if you really love love someone and they lay next to yo...

It's a funny phase that I've begun living in. Symphony with lyrics. Injections for wrong usage. Asking for time out's, 'cause that is what you think you need. You really don't need a time out from people M, you need a time out from yourself. Give your mind a rest. Yes, rest? Rest in peace. Waiting with anger. Waiting with pure jealousy. Jealousy and anger with sadness. You and me. You and me. Me and you? Eyes readers can't read eyes that are black full of nothingness. They can't read if they are blinded sometimes. Stitches and ache. Stitches and needles. A seeming attempt for something, but it's not the truth. It was anger. You calm me, yet you turn me into spires of fire. No smoke. No ashes. Hearts don't literally burn. Helping. Calling. Hiding. But even you stare hard into my eyes, you will find nothing. Perhaps tears that have yet to fall. Ring a ring o'roses pocket full of poises, atishu atihsu we all fall down. A pocket full of tragedies. Ce...

This is what it does to you. It breaks you, even though you are strong. It makes you lie, even though you aren't a liar. There are days, you hate; and it's so violent and fierce that it could kill. Don't test your patience, it can be quite devastating. Thank you.

Forgive me if you see me as you do not want to. Forgive me because I am going to change in unimaginable ways. I am apologising before the change comes around, so that you can expect what is to happen. Forgive me because I loved you more and because the home is burning in flames and it's aftermath is a million motes of ashes and dust, small and greyblack. Forgive me because I told you before hand. Forgive me because I fell and hit the ground, dived into the concrete floor and damaged my soul. Forgive me for my ravine behaviour. Forgive me because, although its an inadvertent action, it still is kind of intentional. Forgive me because I am slightly surly. Forgive me, if the stories are manipulated and become rumours. Rumours that are true but manipulated. Forgive me 'cause it hurts, not you but me.

Do you reckon the silence in her eyes will find a beautiful song to sing? Do you think the shining loneliness in her eyes will find a home and her lips will turn a different direction and she'll learn to smile? Her days passed, the dull grew into her skin and camouflaged as her own. You didn't turn around to save her dying soul. A still form it turned, you'll never see her smile like she means it. A beautiful story of red faded to black. You didn't catch her when she fell. She fell into the spires of steel and died bleeding, calling out your name . *You have the nerve to look me into the eyes and lie*

Neon stick ons in shapes of planets and stars are stuck on the ceiling. They glow bright at night. Underneath the ceiling, lying comfortably, under the warm quilts, on a winter night, she holds his hand. They talk of being planets and heart breaks. He tells her, he partially loves her. She says she doesn't want to be like the person who broke his heart before. They just can't be. Tears begin damming up in his eyes, but they aren't enough to make long pouring streams;the lump in his throat is heavy and his nose is blocked. He talks in whispers, she wonders why. She thinks he cried. Tears can't always be seen, one could be crying their heart out but you can't see it, cause you don't feel their pain. He shrugs the topic and brings it back. She.. Her feelings are scrambled, she doesn't want to hurt him, but the inevitable can't be ignored. She pulls him closer and holds him; a moment isn't forever. He wants to kiss her lips intensely, but his power is lo...

Missing the sneaky looks. The warmth that emitted from the sunshine smile. Compelling you to smile back, unconsciously. Nearly, having to be called out for, to divert your attention. How captivating your life was, even when you were sitting across. Wishing to be a prisoner forever...

I know when you are lying to me, but just because I don't voice it, doesn't mean that I don't know. The evident sadness. Lie to me, and just go. Same lines of story i've read before, i've seen before. I've loved before.

It's a break down of the kind I've known, I've felt before, The ache inside your chest grows and augments till it reaches the limit of explosion and asks for freedom;but there is no freedom. There is doom, eternal damnation. I know the beat it follows, very incoherent. Breaking and then shattered. In everyway you could've been mine, you're just not. Space that doesn't exist literally, but by souls we're as distant as two stars in the sky. Nothing and no one can bridge the gap. Because you are you and I am, me.

Her heart drowns like a wrecked ship; no other direction to go but downwards, the inevitable fall. Broken? A word too less to characterise the conniving events she suffered. Loss? It is all that she remembers, what was once her own; something or rather someone you hold in your arms and proudly say, 'it's mine or that person belongs to me,' all lost. Like a mother who loses her only 'love struck' son to a woman. Often she sits, resting her head high on her knees and wonders; ponders her reason for the awfully grown distance. How can one count all the reasons for the stretch, how is one to blame everything on one alone and not the other. Half and half.

Her heart sighs, when the wind blows against her face with tiny drops of rain. She thinks of how things are happening around her and how they affect her. Loneliness, with some more loneliness, sadness, vulnerability, fury, agony. If only she knew her own story she would speak of it, but she didn't have a story. It was all in her mind. She cried with and without reason. Small things that add up to be big things, that crush you. Some which she could tell, some which she couldn't and some she didn't realise herself. As the days got closer, more melancholy her heart became. Aggravated and agitated, bright but faded. She made her way through by keeping her mind asleep to things she didn't find out , but she would want to know, because she knew she couldn't handle them. So what if she knew her story, but couldn't speak of it. It's shattering, but she wouldn't let you find out; because she cares for you too much. She'll save you, please let her.

A particular person with a particular smile. She searched for forever in that person's eyes' but she knew she wouldn't find it. She yearned and longed, yet truth remained a standing barrier.