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...he was no less than an abyss and you got to f

...he was no less than an abyss and you got to fall for him. (Read the caption) It's past midnight, and I'm looking out for light outside my window. A cold gush of air gently touched me and took all the warmth along with it. The heaviness and emptiness both are crawling through sills. The dream catcher has shed the feathers of hope to bring you back in my dreams. Silence is all I can hear and, I'm not talking about the silence before the ink spilled on paper. I'm talking about the silence before you fall into an abyss. And, he was no less than an abyss and you got to fall for him. Or should I begin this with that I knew, I was doomed because of the way I fell right into him - harder than the gravity. As an artist, you're ought to fall for an art, and he's the most perfectly carved piece of the creator. Then, how am I not supposed to fall for him? I mean, you got to fall for him the way his gazelle eyes hide silhouettes of his rare existence in this cosmic arena. We've had heard that we fall in love with the right people at wrong times but what if right time is not meant to bind true love together. What if we all are ought to align with our better-half in wrong times? For all those theories, may be, I met him at the most uneven time but the love we both shared always felt so even. I mean, his sheer existence in this world has turned me into a poet - his poet. Certainly, you ought to fall for the art you're designed for. May be, you can fall for him when frequency of your collisions breathe the same melody. May be, you can fall for him when you find everything rational about his existence even if it's not, or you choose to fall for his smile, sound of his laughter, his quirks, his flaws but at the end of each knot its only about the art - you see in him.
...he was no less than an abyss and you got to fall for him. (Read the caption) It's past midnight, and I'm looking out for light outside my window. A cold gush of air gently touched me and took all the warmth along with it. The heaviness and emptiness both are crawling through sills. The dream catcher has shed the feathers of hope to bring you back in my dreams. Silence is all I can hear and, I'm not talking about the silence before the ink spilled on paper. I'm talking about the silence before you fall into an abyss. And, he was no less than an abyss and you got to fall for him. Or should I begin this with that I knew, I was doomed because of the way I fell right into him - harder than the gravity. As an artist, you're ought to fall for an art, and he's the most perfectly carved piece of the creator. Then, how am I not supposed to fall for him? I mean, you got to fall for him the way his gazelle eyes hide silhouettes of his rare existence in this cosmic arena. We've had heard that we fall in love with the right people at wrong times but what if right time is not meant to bind true love together. What if we all are ought to align with our better-half in wrong times? For all those theories, may be, I met him at the most uneven time but the love we both shared always felt so even. I mean, his sheer existence in this world has turned me into a poet - his poet. Certainly, you ought to fall for the art you're designed for. May be, you can fall for him when frequency of your collisions breathe the same melody. May be, you can fall for him when you find everything rational about his existence even if it's not, or you choose to fall for his smile, sound of his laughter, his quirks, his flaws but at the end of each knot its only about the art - you see in him.
payaljaswal9798

payal jaswal

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