when a friend leaves-

they called me an epitome of scars...

we are born to be scarred, to be bruised-

they plucked the thorns from my nicest roses; until the wind gnawed my skin-

we drink the poison our minds pour for us and wonder why we feel so sick (~atticus)

we watch lights scintillating, till darkness rips open the beckoning silence... [about the feeling of emptiness]

the world disappeared beneath those nonchalant skies and waning moonlight... [ this one makes no sense ]

for our hearts are like wildflowers, blooming out of ice-frozen ground...

we brimmed the pages with pieces of our soul...[dedicated to every poets out there]

we were - the wilting petals of an elegiac jasmine in sunburnt fields...