When I climbed up the hurdles, you had already made it ready for me. You believed I could do it.
But where were you?

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People have this habit of finding others in small habits, things that make people eternal.
The question is: How long exactly can a person's memory survive?

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I am waiting for the sun to dry away the tears.

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I want to look forward to the next day for my office. I don't want to think how fun retirement would be, but how my job is.
I would want to feel like I am at home with my job.

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I want to keep getting tired, acknowledge it, but keep trying. I want to view my profiles, my achievements and know that I don't need to worry anymore, I don't need to compare myself to anyone, anymore.

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I don't want to be imprisoned with habits and routines. I want to return home, and do things on my instinct. I want to sulk when I want to, laugh when I like to. I want to feel annoyed, loved and hated.

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I believe it is better to be obsessed with one goal than to not dream at all.

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In my web of guzzled thoughts, you came softly and swiftly, reaching out your hands to me first captivatingly then enticingly stinging slowly like venom, sweet strong venom and in spite of knowing well you were a dream, I reached back. I reached back through a puff of smoke that disintegrated to my touch and I realised that I had destroyed you and that horror and love were never meant to be together.

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You were in my most deepest and peaceful snores.
Sometimes you even inhabited my eyes with dolorous sobs and cries.
How daring you were to play with my eyes and emotions.
And how stupid I was, to not even know how to control myself.

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His smile.
Isn't that a wonderful poetry? You don't even have to anything. You just have to understand and visualise him smiling again,
For he doesn't smile now. His smile, it has faded into nothingness.

His smile,
what a beautiful sight it was!

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