Strangers at the Train (1)

Strangers in the night. Exchanging glances. Wondering in the night. What were the chances. We’d be sharing love. Before the night was through?

The sun was overshadowed by the shifting skies that turned solid grey and with it the moon took over the role to radiate the light to the mother earth. The accompaniment of stars were relatively necessary for aesthetic purposes. Ergo, it was just another day’s mundanity, it was another regularity but it held dear its peculiarity that valued punctuality, predictability and certainty. In a seemingly tranquil shifted night, in the night where her soul tried to mend and gather back what had been broken for the losing she was least expected. In the night, where the bitter solitary heart begged for a pat of sympathy for her deeply grieving heart.

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Confession to the Broken Lady (14)

@artidote //would I be so drawn to solitude? If I were more of a solid dude, dude// fake laugh – better for me

It had been a pretty long while. He remembered the first time he met her, now he tried to recall the impression. He reminisced in the midst of resting from the day’s highway. “Sometimes, I feel like I know her, as she makes it seemingly obvious, but the more she told me more of her, the more I lost her essence. She can be that contradictory.” He remembered what she always wanted to become, he never doubted what she was good at, even when it was understated but she was oozing with unstoppable spirit; it didn’t beg for a glance but it caught his heart as it was heartfelt. She might be taciturn at times but she could be hard to handle; and it made him questioned her layers, how many she wore and what she was, at the times, wore.

The Diary of a Late Bloomer (123)

This is what you call, love, love, love. This is what I’m thinking of.

Letters to four letters word (12)

Dearest you, I know we are busy growing, we are busy becoming, we are progressing, and will apparently in a constant state of being preoccupied. I have learnt how to survive on my own two feet and leant to befriend my own shadow, trust only myself entirely and the supreme being up above, even when I’m far from being faithful. The point is, your being there is of little significance. But sometimes, I wish I had you there. The future terrifies me and you hold the same concern. We are not even in a relationship, but this whole drama I make out of this makes it as if we are. What will this make us? What will this mold us into? Will you be the person to hold my hands? Will you be the person to wipe my tears? Despite being 26 years old, I’m only 17 when it comes to romance, and I’m still learning.