Festering wounds.

At first, pain is like a prick your skin.

Like getting sunburned on a sunny day at the beach, with sand still clinging on your skin after a volleyball win.

It suddenly swells into the pricks of a thousand needles. Like lying on a bed of thorns, each piercing into your skin,

                                                          slowly,

                                                                  as if it has all the time in the world, it kindles.

Then comes the hurt.

Like a slow, tantalizing drink.

                                        Slow and steady,

                                                                                it hurts to even blink.

It seeps into your core, you can feel it coursing through your veins,

It doesn't bleed,

but it almost makes you wish it did.

The worst part is the numbness that follows,

its like hurt, but just nothingness.

It just makes you wallow.

Like cold,

wet,

 heavy cement

making its way through your body,

Shutting down your mind,

your mind,

encasing your heart,

making you wish that things could go back to the start.

But when a wound reopens,

it festers.

it stings, it kicks,

it lashes out.

Shutting down your ability to think.

Shifting eyes, tapping toes

peeling skin, counting sores.

Its all you can think about.

How it felt, how you left.

Just like a drug, you start to crave it more and more.

You start seeking hurt out,

 just to feel something else than the hurt you feel now.

You start building walls around it.

but it keeps on festering, under your closed knit.

Until you forget and run your fingers over it again,

and your pain begins.

Anew.

Ghost of my beating heart.

Sometimes I delve into my thoughts like I delve into your brown eyes. 

Listen to my heart beating whose rhythm only spells your name.

The skin on my hand tingles in anticipation as I think about touching you. Holding you.  being embraced like a child.

I close my eyes,  trying to get a hint of your cologne.
Crazy? 
Maybe. 

But it doesn't matter.

I smile. You're here.  

Maybe not physically,  but in a deeper way.  I can feel you. Hell,  I can even see you. 

You're there with me in everything I do. May it be just a chore. I know you enough to imagine you sitting beside me with your legs tucked under you,  commenting on my very move.

Sometimes,  I can't wait to see you.
I grow restless.  But I know that it's worth it.
I sleep peacefully because I'm assured that I'll see you the next day.
It's a sweet kinda love. But it's agonizing too.

Because when you reluctantly leave my side,  the ghost of my beating heart almost runs after you only to be reined by the hope that I'll see you again tomorrow.

Keep dreaming!

Parallel Lines.

"No honey, we aren’t parallel lines. We crash together in the most destructive passion and when we meet, it always ends with a broken heart. Always my broken heart. So no. We are anything but parallel lines. We are not the same."

Keep Dreaming!

Contradictions.

My life has been a series of contradictions. Every time I think I can't do it, I do. Every time I think yes, it is the end, it's not. Every time I try to hold myself back, I fail. Every time I try not to stumble on your stupid lies, I trip. Every time I try not to fall for those soft brown eyes, crooked smile and faint acne around your nose, I fall. I fall hard. It's so hard not to. I hold myself back from what I yearn because I know, that when you abandon me and I crash on the floor, with shudders running up and down my body, shaking me apart and I give my 100 per cent not to let the pieces of my heart scatter at your feet. I know that you won't be the who helps me to stop shuddering and sweep all those pieces. For I know this much that, I am alone.
Keep Dreaming!