In the quietest of nights where you would just sit and go through old pictures, searching for a reason to stay, staring at the ceiling with emptiness in your eyes you asked – will loving you always hurt ?
The air tasted like misery, I kept my silence because we know, you know. That night you left and all I could say was – it’s okay.
It’s not love that unites people it’s the sanity they find in other. It’s been beyond suffering to hold on to my sanity all these years without you.
Our memories are nothing but old clothes we are too reluctant to throw away, stacked in a corner of the closet.
Your perfume nothing but a scent of sadness.
Love is a stutter in the face of reality. A lie we tell ourselves to make us feel good. You hold on to it untill it dawn’s on you that it’s really the end. You are never going to hear that voice again.
Love is a travel to infinity of pain, death of two passengers,
and no one really come’s back from the dead.