A dire fever renders our taste buds futile. We quiver and groan at the convulsions, burying ourselves in layers and layers of chivalrous blankets while swallowing flavorless foods. The sweetest taste of our realm, is explored by us during those vulnerable hours, a taste so nectarous and exquisite, so sensitive and compassionate, a taste called 'kindness' of our parents.
One of the most crucial regrets of human beings occur right after they wake up, drenched and breathless, following a clashing dream. The abrupt consciousness of reality slaps hard and the gasping dreamer feels an intense dissatisfaction due to his erratic actions towards her in the dream. This induces the dreamer to turn towards their partners and embrace them and that's why on odd mornings you'd find yourself buried under his arms for no plausible cause. A guy, who endeavors to keep her dreamy projections in elation by cuddling with the real her, towers the charts of galactic romance.
I'm just a star, In your entire galaxy, It never make sense, If I be or leave, But you are my star, In an mini stellar, If you leave, Every thing around makes sense.