gazing_at_thestars
Let go let go let go
gazing_at_thestars
gazing_at_thestars
I observe and I observe and I observe
gazing_at_thestars
Dead and gone?
gazing_at_thestars
August is my month or so I think.
Scrolling through wattpad is nostalgic and also sad.
The kind of sadness that wraps around your throat
gazing_at_thestars
Red hearts, red hearts float.
The little blush on your cheeks—so red, so bright.
Heart eyes for him. Just for him.
What does the bindi on your forehead hold?
Twirling in your skirt.
The anklets on your ankle—a prose, a rhyme, a story, a song for the observers but an annoying sign of your arrival for the unknown, the lost-in-nothing humans.
Your hair so dark, a veil for the midnight sky.
A worshiper of the jasmine flowers.
Long–forgotten conversations.
Long–forgotten poetries.
Never been a subject of admiration.
The him, a hoax.
The her, unknown to everyone.
Known to none.
Fragments of her exist in some minds, at the very back of their heads.
She walks through the streets, unnoticed by everyone.
gazing_at_thestars
Procrastinating, procrastinating anddd procrastinating
gazing_at_thestars
Can I yap?