When.

And when the soul finally shuns it's cries and sings an epicedium instead.
When the eyes stop crying and gaze at the sky instead.
When the heart stops bleeding and starts pouncing at twice the rate instead.
When the hurt vanishes to give way for the ever stuck gloom that digs deeper inside of you each moment.
When your madness gets out of the head, and gets into the veins.
When it's too late to tell you that we could've been, been perfect.
When you could be happy without me, and are finally working on it.
When everything I own, reminds me of the taste of your lips, of the electricity that ran across my entire body with just the touch of your finger, and of the night that you left.
When all that city lights are blinding while the dark room is what brings you back.
When your words still bang across my entire body and I don't wish to save myself anymore.
When I know it's best that you go, yet my soul still yearns your presence.
When you're gone and I'm still here, waiting for a lie to come to life, for the magicians to play their tricks and bring you back.
When, finally you get a life off me, and when I'm genuinely happy that you saved yourself a disaster.
When I die.

Of Loss and Longing.

She just laid on the floor like someone pushed her hard onto it. The walls mocked at her pain, singing the melancholy she was tryin' so hard to escape. It was in that moment, she felt as weak. Like every bit of her was falling apart. She was scattered all over the floor, yet in one single piece. Loads of misery trapped in that body. Her heart must've ached, limbs must've got numb and eyes must've cried. It was painful to even see what she was going through, put apart bearing the same.
We are all fools in this great wide world, fooled by all the lies, all the fake smiles. Just a curve on someone's face makes us escape the reality and believe in the erroneous. She wasn't doing a thing I could understand. Just laying there, gazing at the ceiling in amazement, wondering how it survived all these years without a scar, unlike her soul. Not a noise except of the winds which played their happy song, contrary to the gloom that had stuck her heart.
Her body was bruised, hurt, swollen but she had made it through. But this time, it was the soul which was set on fire. She couldn't have thought in her wildest dreams that such an apocalypse would strike her life, leaving her abandoned by the ones she had loved the most.
It had been three days since she laid there, not making even the slightest movement. And finally, her soul whispered, "Enough for this lifetime love. You don't deserve as bad." ,as it departed from the body which had lost all trace of hope.
Then the heartbeat raised for a tiny fleeting second, and then, stopped forever.

Vision.

She looked at his face, her own kind of perfection glowing in the moonlight of that crescent shaped moon which wasn't her favourite phase of it. Nevertheless this night to her was as beautiful as she'd wanted it to be. The wind brushed against their faces and it's sound made her lose her mind and give into the envious glow of his flawless face. She couldn't help but blush for she could make that man smile that wide. With her tremulous hands, she had fixed his bruised parts, forgetting how her own were still dripping blood. Forgetting the red on her body, she had always bothered to cleanse the blue in his soul.
Her qualms about failure in love were finally blurring and it wasn't really hard to predict that from her face.
Her misery and wounds were never the concern, his pain and sorrow was. And having healed it, she was at the top of the world.
There was fire inside her, not the kind that burns, but the kind that heals, that gives you that much needed warmth.
They talked about the universe, about their universes, about failures and tiny triumphs, of everything that could be talked about until one moment they both lost control. He passionately leaned in onto her, just as he came a little closer, There was a strange noise in all of the world around them. Rihanna screaming through the phone which vibrated trying to wake her up from the dream which she prayed would come true, every night.
She went into the bathroom, and started to think of ways to mend his broken heart, of ways in which she could someday fill the minute voids in him which his grief had left behind.
Forgetting yet again, her own melancholy, she made plans of fixing that man. Because of no private gains, but just because he was the love of her life. And as soon as she stepped out of her house, she started working on making the dream come true. The distant dream, which she won't ever give up trying to bring to life.

DARKCircles.

And those dark circles under your scarlet eyes, to me are the most beautiful part of yours.
Like clouds of sorrow, surviving through storms; they tell your stories, only to those who look that deep into your soul. They serve as a reminder of how you my friend, are a soldier. The one, who faught against all odds of life.
I know those nights he came in, you'd pretend to be fast asleep, and how he'd thrust his arm in your blanket, just to take it all out on you- his failures and miseries. I know those nights you'd run to your world's best lady, cuddling and sobbing against her chest, as she'd try to cease your cries fighting against her own.
I know how your kin would often come to your rescue and you'd feel like hugging him and telling him that he's the world's greatest brother, but never would. I know.
I know how your tee-shirt, the one you tend to slip into at nights, still smells of dried tears, reminiscent of how most of your nights you'd flood your pillow with your angst and hurt.
I know you'd often think to yourself that you should quit, only to be reminded of how hard it'd be for your only lady. I know.
And slipping back into that blanket, with your eyes still wide open, you'd stare into the eternal black outside the room, all night long. I know.
And I know how the mornings would often begin with apologies from your father, his breaths still smelling of the whiskey he had last night, and your pretending to have felt no hurt, having suffered nothing at all. And then it'd all repeat itself.
I know you're tired of this monotonous routine and have found an escape in the outside world, at least that's what you pretend. I know.
And I know for a fact how that bothers you each day, each hour, each passing second,  while you still show the world not a thing. Not how terribly broke your insides are, how bruised your heart is, how there is an ever growing emptiness that kills you each moment. I know.
Then by evening, as you reach back for your place, I know you wish each day that you could run back, anywhere ,but only for your mother, would you put that befooling smile on, and walk past the porche, into the front hall and go hug her. Just to realise she'd been waiting there all day, because you are all she's living for. I know
And if you ask me, those dark circles of yours, aren't dark at all.

Teachers.

In the anonymity of life, the blurriness of hopes and shadowed desires, there are people who bump into your lives as some saviours. People who make the haziness disappear and let the sunshine pass through so that our lives start to glow.
They teach us that no problem can ever be big enough to make you lose your all. They're there to guide you, when your own shadows shy away from you. They help you put off all your troubles aside and  bring in joy.
No matter how colossal a wreck you think your life is, even if you feel drained of your all, like there's nothing left of your own, they'll be there to help you rise back up, from ground zero. And with their mere presence, you'll know it'll all be fine.
They're your rays of hope when the clouds of misery surround you. Tearing through those clouds, they come and save your soul.
Some friends are more than just friends, they're teachers. Rather, a perfect conglomeration of both. And this is for you.
Because no other teacher, sir has been able to bring out my best. Thank you.

FairyTale Romances.

The damp soil, the cold breeze that gently taps my shoulder leaving that tingling sensation on it, all of this takes me back to the first time we met. The first time we ever held hands, not being sure of what exactly we want from our lives, from each other. I remember how your lips trembled as you said that you wanted us to be together, that the very thought of me made you feel like a thousand butterflies were fluttering in your belly. Ah, that Day.
Certainly the most beautiful day of my life. I remember how your gaze was fixated on the grass of that park and you were eager for a reply, all sweating and too nervous to even look up.
And I remember the gleam in your eyes when you found out that I had wanted you just as bad. I know we weren't sure of how far we could or would want to take it. We were just two kids who felt for each other, unaware of anything else. I remember when it all began and you'd get me chocolates every second day, all those expensive ones.
I wasn't sure of whether you could be trusted enough to give you an insight into what I was, I sure as hell wasn't. It took me a little time to trust you as much, so much that I could share my darkest parts with you, the ones that I had for so long kept to myself; let you peep into the past-the one that had been haunting me all that while, speak to you the unspeakable chapters of my life. I don't know what made me repeat my history to you, tell you what I thought I'd never have the strength to share with anyone else.
There sure is something about you, about how you make me feel so good about being me, about the security that comes with your very presence. I had thought you'd question me on my past, ask me that how could I even expect you to be with me after you knew it all. To my surprise, nothing of that sort really happened. I remember your wiping tears off my face, caressing my numb fingers and telling me that regardless of what I had done or left undone, I was worthy of love. Reminding me that the past was fucking gone and you saw in me, your future. That nothing that had happened before or the person I had become for a while, would affect what we share.
Do you remember the spark that my eyes had that day or maybe the glow on my pale face? That joy that ripped apart any wall of gloom, or the smile which was trying pretty hard to grow wider than my face?
Until then, I seriously wasn't sure but thereafter I knew we would take this far. This kind of love, built on nothing but truth where we loved each other for nothing else but the person we are beneath our skin, where all we wanted to do was fill in the wounds of the trenched souls with love and heal them, this could never die. I remember sharing every part of ourselves with each other, I remember how it all fell into just the perfect spot. I will never forget how it all began, for that is the most beautiful part of our story. The story I would never write an end to.

Pangs Of Pain.

It seemed like I was revisiting the past, looking at our old pictures.
It made me realise how much had changed since then. I was like this broken thing you fixed and threw it back away.
And here, exactly after a year of our separation, I still look at our pictures wondering what went wrong, weeping over what's gone. It hurts a little too much, you know? Hearing of that girl you're seeing now, looking at how happy you were walking hands in hands with her as you walked past me.
Remembering how you promised me a lifetime of happiness and love yet left me sans even the traces of joy. I still feel your arms around me while I'm crying, and then open my eyes to the harsh reality; the fact that you're over me and I'm still stuck in the past, still living the bittersweet memories. I hope you knew what you meant to me, I wish you didn't walk away.
But how can I even blame you for this? I know handling a filthy piece of crap like me is one hell of a task.
Everyone, just every fucking one has eventually abandoned me, how could I even expect you to be an exception.
It's all my fault that I let you see the ugly parts of me, let you see how weak I was, how bruised every inch of me was.
But then, had I not warned you well before? You still made an attempt. Why did you even come into my life, why?
How easy it was for you, walking in and out of my life like it was some sort of joke. A joke that claimed my entire fucking life.
Do you have even the slightest clue of what you put me through? How every second since a year, I've been dying. How my world is crumpled, my hopes have withered away and I've been acting all weird like a drunk maniac? That I've given up on life because I gave you all that was left of me. Does that bother you that you took all my love, crushed in under your feet and in that moment you ruined my entire life?
I guess no, but then it was my fault. I should've known that the love human race offers is always adulterated with lust, should've known that nothing lasts forever. That every moment I was with you, every second I felt I was alive, everything was an illusion. It's okay. I'll live this life, looking at our pictures, trying to figure out what exactly happened. Trying to fix myself, trying to get over you. I just hope the best for you.
I will let these memories haunt me for all my life, for they are all that I am left with. Let the misery cling onto me 'til my bones perish. Let it kill me, every single night. Live the rest of my life hoping you'd come back, telling myself all these lies over and over again, comforting my own self.