I asked the broken verses ,when life buried me in coffin of dark clouds in between the fiction of heavenly rain. Bite of sour dust I use to read chastened my experiences every time, I felt to recluse myself under the roof of suffocating chords....
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I begged his brush of emotional paint to re-read my canvas with aesthetic, arcylic love which is blessed with divine burns of his touch.But he shared my memories in book of ancient greek philosophers history binding it with six titles and three colours of loops naming it .. //Storge ~ Agape~ Ishq//
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I found you as my elbow room cause I was adoring my element by crossing difficulties of understanding path. But my patience kills your two birds with one stone of painful anger.This journey is perfect in my eyes of peace and imperfect in reflection of my tears. It makes me wonder my circumstances of life in words and embrace my death in between the non fictional demons of my novel I called life.