Fragmentation

{ d } e e p l y

Dear Wordsworth,

          Sometimes, words alone are not enough to express the truest emotions in existence.

        Sometimes, hearing it is completely useless. You need to feel what they really mean; just let your intuition overpower your knowledge of analysis. And sometimes, we wish to have these special words to be endured into our very souls; we wish for them to devour the shells that have been protecting us far too long and just crumble like soil into the ground.

         As today is a celebration of hearts, let these poems crawl through your skin and slither through your nerves and into your innermost core. It is my gift to you, a collection of poems to remind you that I am a stranger and I have fallen in love with your mystery and madness. I have fallen in love with the thought of unravelling your thoughts and ideas and stories.

           Love is such a potent word, isn't it? But I hope you know that my usage was platonic, genuine, sincere.

              Being misplaced sometimes is a necessity; to walk into a maze and let confusion consume our fears and hopes.

             But we should always remember that you need to get lost, before you get found. Losing yourself is the challenge of finding yourself, and giving up is the frailest option. It is the challenge of life.

                 Find yourself.

                Who knows, I might come across you too.

               Nevertheless, it was very nice writing for you, truly it was. I have come into many realisations whilst creating this collection. And don't you ever forget: You. Are. Loved.

                     Happy Valentine's Day, Wordsworth.

                                                    Yours,

                                                                           punctuations

PS: Dear reader, I am also relaying this letter to you. Happy Valentine's Day.