Perhaps, my days were mostly spent slumped at the corner, reading the most profound of poetries; losing myself to its lulling words and rhythm, nonchalantly falling in love with every line it patiently chants.
And maybe you are one of them. You are one hell of a poem and it kills me because my favorite ones seem to be unfathomable- beyond every coherent mind could grasp. But lately I've been wondering, flipping through my crooked thoughts. Perhaps, they're just not meant to be understood, but be felt. And out of any sane reason I could ever conjure, maybe,
They're just loved; you're just meant to be loved.
YOU ARE READING
Paper & Ink |#Wattys2016|
Poetry"I am the black on white; the ink on paper." A collection of my nightly thoughts and daydreams. Highest rank: #5 in Poetry. Please enjoy reading and find a friend in one of my works. :)
