Dear You

Dear you,

Did they not tell you that your sleeves were made for buttons and cufflinks, not hearts?
Did you tell them you are tired? How you lost yourself only to find yourself weeping softly into your pillow?
Dear you,
Did they not tell you that the light at the end of the tunnel is just a mirror reflecting you?



Dear reader,
If you are still reading this after the silence, thank you and I am sorry. I wasn’t busy I just couldn’t put my thoughts down, atleast without sounding like a lunatic. Anyway this post is a documentation of my recent feelings. (because I am such a sharer)

I fell in love with him before he even said hello to me.
Funny aint it, that you can think you are in love with someone
When the only conversation you’ve had is about tequila over tequila.

And I tried to get him to tell me,
tell me what made him do what he does
or atleast why he was here in the first place.
I tried to get him to tell me why I was already in love with him.
I asked him what happens if he leaves,
He kissed me and made me forget what time or day it was.

It was a rollercoaster ride
It was an episode of lost
It was a juicy peach with a worms on the middle
What I am saying is it was a beautiful mess.
it was straight out of Picassos brain
I loved the moments of blankness
I loved the clarity.

But he left
I knew it would happen
I was left yearning, wanting, almost begging
I now know what happens when.he leaves,


Let me discuss with you my one of my favourite song words:
     When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.

Ever been so numb? Ever felt so stuck? Ever been so hurt? In those moments where everything felt too much ever done something, anything to feel whole? To feel okay? To just feel in control?
You bled just to feel alive.

In my dark times, I’ve felt out of touch, hopeless and lacking control. And I’ve done the craziest things just to feel anything.


Hello guys, this is my attempt at poetry.

She unlocks the door
She is welcomed by the smell of beer that has been left open and something She cant really place.
She calls it the smell of broken dreams because really thats what She feels when the stench hits her nostrils.
She finds the man She loves and hates, seated infront of the noisy television. Looking almost lifelessly at it.
He tries too hard not to acknowledge her. She murmurs a hello and the outbursts begin.See lately it seems She says the wrong things always.
Before She knows it things are flying, glasses are broken and he is halfway through the door.She picks up the broken pieces.She fixes broken things,
She doesn’t replace them.
How can you replace a heart?