And here we are. Selling our dreams, to someone else and getting paid for it with the counterfeit. Which we would keep safe all our life, in the hope of using it to buy the dreams of others, in the future again.
You can never heal completely. The scars will always stay behind, just to remind how cruel the time was once to you. But someday, you will learn to see beauty in the world that gave you these scars. And your eyes will shine with no lies in it. That day, you become beautiful. With baring all the scars, Which you always tried to hide from everyone.
And at the end of the night, they realized how important those little stars were, which they ignored while adoring the beauty of the moon whole night.
Many times, we give beautiful names to our miseries and catastrophes. And that's how we lock down the memories inside us, from which we always want to escape.
The same pot that gave birth to the angels created the demons too. And eventually, there came a time where the differences between both races perished. What came out of the pot next shook the whole universe, and turned it into a graveyard of dreams.
He had never seen anyone live so magically and yet leave no trace of it until he met her.
I am one of those who came in search of light but fell in love with darkness.
The god of art neither has religion nor gender or color or any shape. All he does is sit inside me and smile every time I look inside myself and ask him a question. A smile that resembles a silver lining on the darkest cloud. A smile that cuts me off from my reality and throws me into infinity and beyond. At that moment, all I can feel is floating in a place that doesn't have gravity and looking at the memories of the people who have asked him the same questions before.
They lied to her every day saying that she can't fly. And the most painful thing about it was, she believed it till the end.
Sometimes, what we need the most is the strength to survive in this world. Which forces us to pay, to watch the demons destroy the paradises we built and dance on its ruins.
I want to create a place for us, like a room. And I want to store everything that I come across as a memory of us, in there. Years after, someday I will take you there in the middle of the night. I want to see you at that moment. I want to watch you drowning in the memories helplessly, losing the bounds of time, getting weaker every second. And then I want to hold you in these arms in those moments of never-ending the silence. Where only our eyes speak, while we look at each other, like the dreams that we never want to stop seeing.
They refused to live in these moments right now. And they got busy in turning everything they come across, into a memory, which they could visit in the future.
For everyone out there, who is watching your loved ones dancing with someone else, for the songs that you had written for them. Remember this. Not everyone can come up with beautiful compositions. It takes a heart that knows no boundaries, and a soul that shines with a light, that can make even the gods go blind. They took away your song, but not your soul. Start writing the new ones, and you will eventually find someone who will sing every song written by you, beautifully, and only for you.
All her life, she believed that carrying so many things is what made her heart always heavier. But there came a day, when she finally realized that, what really makes it heavier is, not having anything there.
The day your souls see their faces or smell their memories in someone else's stories, and doesn't bleed anymore. You know, you have healed.
A true romance is not something that happens between the skins. It is something that burns our souls beautifully and leaves us craving to be destroyed even more.
The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.
She was his favorite sin. She was not a habit for him anymore, she was an obsession.
I am that piece of a puzzle, which would never fit in any puzzles out there. I am that sky, which refused to turn blue every morning. I am that bird, which always had broken wings and yet always tried harder to fly. And I am that tunnel, which neither had a beginning nor end but one could always see the light at both the ends.
He fed himself to the demons he had inside him, every single day. Just to save her, from being consumed by them.