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When the inner stuffs really matter.

Posted on September 16, 2013 by admin
Somehow filled - somehow empty.
Somehow filled – somehow empty.

Those who are broken hearted are the real lucky and blessed ones.

Heart beats fast, colours in the sky and promises. All of my doubts go away somehow when I’m with him. Or – its just because I’m preoccupied.
No – he makes all my doubts go away.

Occasionally, now and then, I find myself terribly lonely. And I feel this numbness inside me. It’s not pain, it’s not sadness. Maybe an accumulation of what I have felt over time. But it’s a kind of numbness.

It makes me realistic about love.

Heart beats fast, colours in the sky and promises.

Becomes.

I’m just excited, its projections in the sky and merely put together alphabets.

I cry now and then out of frustration.Not because I feel lonely.
But at my heart and head. Wondering why are these emotions, seem so inaccessible to me. Why can’t I feel them at all.

Maybe it was all taken away. Or maybe I’m just scared.

Maybe the heart is not in its place anymore. Maybe I’m afraid to fall.

In times like these, I wished I was young again. The ultimate price of ageing – is losing my innocence. Knowing the end product of most things. Losing all my first times. Is this what we term ‘maturity’ ?

If yes, please take it away from me. Let me love wildly again. Let me feel the things I ought to feel.

Maybe this is what we, adults, call – baggage.

Coward. I am.

Like I said;

Those who are broken hearted are the real lucky and blessed ones. Or give me back my youth.

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