A place where paintings are drawn through words.
But the colours are smeared by the rain of emotions.
Where proses are made poetic.
Cover image: Google Images
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I never knew I could get so caught up in your beautiful fake lies. Your practiced smile. The compliments which have been rehearsed before on so many other girls. How could I not know that all the kisses were just to make her jealous? How could I not know that whenever you held my hand, it was she you pictured? How could I not know that whenever you compared me with her, it was just a sign that I could never be anything more than the second best? How could I not know that I....I was just a rebound? How.....oh how could I not know that I was just that old jumpsuit at the bottom of your closet when she was the perfume you everyday wore?
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