THE EMPTY CORRIDORS

The empty corridors would echo the chaos I hated the most
Unaware that this would be the sound I'll miss someday
Looking at the walls that once I scribbled my name on
Whose plaster has been peeling off lately
The tables are still there
Names have been written with markers
Like a territory seized by a king
The pictures hanging on the side board
A little too bright for the dull ceiling
The empty corridors might not miss me
The tables will be reigned by the heirs
The building might forget I once was a part of it
But I?
I will always remember the good old days
Treasured in a corner of my heart
Treasured in the corner of the staircase I loved to stand by.
Treasured in the empty corridors I would miss someday.

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The feeling which half opened books get lying in the corner peeping at the phone in it's favourite human's hand. — % &

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The rage in it's eyes spoke of the thunder that scared me. The deadly stare somehow made me uncomfortable enough to walk my little crippled walk around the room.
Who would have thought that the eyes of my favorite human, which I admired the most would be so haunting when I stitched them to my favorite doll. — % &

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And my heart aches for warmth
I will sush it quiet
Lullabies would rise from the pacing wind
Melodies melancholic tingling from outside the window
A shiver shall run down my spine as I think of you
A summer coat to my winter smile burning in the heat of agony
An umbrella to my winter rains soaking me to the depths of my soul

When the nights are cold
And you're not beside
I will close my eyes and speak to my heart
And when it'll ache, I'll sush it quiet.

— % &

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A LETTER TO THE OLD YOUR QUOTE

But when I return to your home these days, it feels like the walls echo my name but there is no one to welcome me. I feel like a bird returning to her nest, only to find the shattered twigs hither and tither.

//captioned//

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For we all shall meet in dirt
So lets build sandcastles
till the waves wash it all.

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My bookshelf craves
My touch while I am
In the graves.

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