None of my being is sane enough to be yours.
I've my angels who'll sing you lullabies and kiss you goodnight every time before you go to sleep.
I've my demons, a lot of them, who will steal the collection of novels which you hide under your cupboards.
None of my being is pretty enough to be yours.
I've my good hair days, when I do look pretty, and even apply the deepest shade of my favourite lipstick to add cherry to the top.
But some days, I go through the times when I look like a fucking mess, untidy, inside and out.
None of my being is constant enough to be yours.
I'll wake you up with an English - breakfast, if that's what you wish for.
But the next moment, I'll disappear from beside you, just because I'm running late for work.
None of my being is yours enough to be yours.
I've loved you with everything I've, my dear.
But I've an affair with words, poems, songs and classic novels, and they don't let me sleep beside you at nights.
YOU ARE READING
The Untold Stories.
Short Story// The Untold Stories. \\ " We're about the books we read, and the poems we love." - Kritika Banerjee. A collection of paragraphs, nanotales, poetry and thoughts from my journey. Highest Rank - #78 in short stories on 29/6/17 ...
