If.

To Ramya, because when I showed you my dark side, instead of running away, you rolled over and pointed out the stars

 

If your love was a colour

It would be

The darkest shade of red

Vibrant, and angry

And oh-so-brilliant.

–

If your love was a flower

It would be a Larkspur

Blooming only

In the spring

And, leaving me

Cold in the winter.

–

If your love was a word

It would be orphic

Mysterious, and beyond

Ordinary understanding.

–

If your love was a feeling

It would be

The overwhelming desire

To kiss someone

You can never have.

–

If your love was a place

It would be a cave

In the wilderness

Safe in the mornings

Scary at nights.

–

If your love was a time

It would be midnight

On New Year’s

The beginning

And, the end

Of everything.

---

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore

Poetry.

She was constantly turning melancholy Into poetry Splattering the pain, that Coursed through her veins Onto pages of blank paper And watching, as her pain Wrote beautiful verses Turning pain into an art form Making people cry, at How something so ugly Could create something …

Happiness.

Her whole body, exploded in happiness From the tips of her fingers, to The very core of her heart You could see it in her eyes It was like somebody Had shone a light, into A dark room Drawn the blinds, and opened the windows …

The coffee shop.

This is the girl’s perspective of the poem The Coffee Shop by Jafar. I loved it so much, so I wrote this. You can read his poem by clicking on the link.   I’m the girl in the coffee shop Writing about you, the boy On the …

Paradox.

You’re the stars in the night sky, the sunshine on a cloudy day You’re my morning cup of coffee, the reason I wake up every day You’re love poems, beautiful, yet devastating You’re graffiti on the walls, making people Look at you in awe, before …

Words.

“Words, in my not-so-humble opinion, are the most inexhaustible source of magic we have.”

– Albus Dumbledore

 

The words you speak, go straight to my heart

Like an arrow, shot from your mouth

The words get dipped in sorrow and heartache

They mix with my blood, and flow through my veins

Until my whole body, is singing with the pain

The words break down, into a million little pieces

Flowing through me, cutting me with their jagged edges

I just might die, not of a broken heart

Rather, from your broken words.

---

 

-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore