Introverts be like: 'talking to the same few people on snapchat, tg and wp'.

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Love came swirling around to me,
dancing bare feet,
to the rhythm of my heartbeat,
when I didn't want it.
I pushed it away for the longest I could,
standing still,
hid everytime it knocked my door,
butterflies suffocated me more.

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As I saw, I recalled.
(in caption)

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'Cause I know I'll be fine.
(In caption)

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i'm still standing at the place,
from where i left you,
i thought i could,
but i feel blue.

(in caption)

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You're my moon and I'm the night, you fell in me as I crawled upto you.

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"Lately I realised everyone has a story and some want to tell 'em too. When the lights are off and you're laying on the bed thinking about all the stuff going on and the things you've to do, you've got another story spunning behind the back of your head and when there's no one listening to your part then, you're re-playing that story in your mind being casted on the ceiling."

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Nothing much.
Just perks of living by your
own on your parent's money.


(Caption)

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Dim-lighted night roads, just the two of us going way back home and no one else coming in between and our hands crept towards eachothers', the butterflies come alive fluttering just when we held. Entangling our fingers around as tight as nothing could tear apart, as if we could travel from one end to another swirling those fingers and lost in eachother.

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When you get that once-in-a-blue-moon enormously good picture of yours and you stare at it being so self-obsessed, until it starts looking ugly. — % &

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