Is beauty something other than what we are?

Ignite me into sparks,

Let me burn into chunks

Our differences,our default


Yearning In silence

Affirmation from the other

Wishing we could pour ourselves in to each other

And curve the other

To our hearts desire

Lust and love a thing line almost


Slipping in and out like it’s our

favourite pair of jeans

Not enough words for these big feelings we have

Craving the truth

Addicted to the thrill,

In assumptions and chaos

The former, become a vicious circle

Enslaved by our own mistakes

As our prides pride gloats in victory?

The hurt? Is how we know something was lost

And In absence ,we worshipped at the alter of a silent god. Fear

There is no superb beauty without some sort of strangeness in the proportion

By Edgar Allan Poe.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s