Irum Zahra's Blog - Posts Tagged "feelings"
To Play A Broken Record
I hate it when I am trying to write about things such as life, career, parents, friends, freedom, life and death…
But my entire mind agrees to talk about you.
I keep trying to rewrite what I have, remake what I am. And all I manage to think is how you are so content with happened to us, that you sleep just as perfectly fine as any other person. A person who isn’t in love, and why? Because you say that there is no time and space left for real love. So what am I supposed to do then? Cry?
I sure as hell have cried too much. Way too much, and I keep missing you. Not on big occasions, well yes on them too…but on little things. Like your favorite coffee…like your favorite place to eat and how you like to eat. Your disgust on things…and it makes me utterly allergic to that specific thing at once with no reason other than you, you alone. Every time I try and focus on things, you’re the one who sneaks inside my brain and corrupts it. Suddenly I want your hands wrapped around my waist. And your lips near my ears telling me to slow down. Because there is a coldplay song on the radio in your car; and you want us to be in that song.
Together
It really is; a shame for us to part.
Am I supposed to forget you? Like you forgot me?
I was your psycho. And you were my therapist. I fell in love with you. And you tore yourself away from me. You should, come back and haunt me. Even for one more time.
Just once
I want to show you how I have learned to smoke so secretly. I want to tell you how many drugs I have tried. I want you to see my eyes. Darkened with sleeplessness and I want to prove to you that I am not a drag.
No.
I am doing something with my life.
I am trying. I am fighting.
Not just to survive, but to live.
I am brave. I am living without you.
It’s a hard thing to do, but I am trying to.
One day, I’ll see you. You’ll be right in front of me. And I would be able to reach out and kiss you.
I am waiting for that day. I am still hoping…Which means I am alive.
To Play A Broken Record,Psychaotic: See The World In Red And Black
Order Here:
[email protected]
But my entire mind agrees to talk about you.
I keep trying to rewrite what I have, remake what I am. And all I manage to think is how you are so content with happened to us, that you sleep just as perfectly fine as any other person. A person who isn’t in love, and why? Because you say that there is no time and space left for real love. So what am I supposed to do then? Cry?
I sure as hell have cried too much. Way too much, and I keep missing you. Not on big occasions, well yes on them too…but on little things. Like your favorite coffee…like your favorite place to eat and how you like to eat. Your disgust on things…and it makes me utterly allergic to that specific thing at once with no reason other than you, you alone. Every time I try and focus on things, you’re the one who sneaks inside my brain and corrupts it. Suddenly I want your hands wrapped around my waist. And your lips near my ears telling me to slow down. Because there is a coldplay song on the radio in your car; and you want us to be in that song.
Together
It really is; a shame for us to part.
Am I supposed to forget you? Like you forgot me?
I was your psycho. And you were my therapist. I fell in love with you. And you tore yourself away from me. You should, come back and haunt me. Even for one more time.
Just once
I want to show you how I have learned to smoke so secretly. I want to tell you how many drugs I have tried. I want you to see my eyes. Darkened with sleeplessness and I want to prove to you that I am not a drag.
No.
I am doing something with my life.
I am trying. I am fighting.
Not just to survive, but to live.
I am brave. I am living without you.
It’s a hard thing to do, but I am trying to.
One day, I’ll see you. You’ll be right in front of me. And I would be able to reach out and kiss you.
I am waiting for that day. I am still hoping…Which means I am alive.
To Play A Broken Record,Psychaotic: See The World In Red And Black
Order Here:
[email protected]
Unnamed Name
Its brutally insane of you think that tears matter to people who live more pretend lives than you do.
You change your clothes, the way you speak, the way you treat people, the food you eat, the places you go.
But you would never be able to hide your nature.
This is what makes us relate to animals.
Our nature. Will never change.
We might be nice to everyone. We might tell you we love you more than the oceans and the trenches in the oceans but, what we don't tell, is is a whole storyline of our wicked, selfish, stubborn nature.
Tears? Really?
Are you for real?
Are those even real?
Please. You always cry for something other than you are upset about. Your head is exploding with anger and frustration about how the universe throws you around like a freaking football and you start crying because you see a dead word? A dead flower?
Spilled ink?
Faded cut marks?
No. You just need an excuse to take the salt in your eyes out.
Who could really blame you?
You made yourself like this.
You, yourself is to blame.
Idiot.
When people matter more than nature, (They never do) you carry on as nothing happened. When inside your brain lobes you curse your every breath, regret every moment and yell at all pieces of burned memories.
Stupid heart.
The sheer force of royal blues hit you in your wings like that ice cold wind on the mountains.
Screw tears.
They don't matter.
-Invictus, Irum Zahra
*Copyrighted Material*
You change your clothes, the way you speak, the way you treat people, the food you eat, the places you go.
But you would never be able to hide your nature.
This is what makes us relate to animals.
Our nature. Will never change.
We might be nice to everyone. We might tell you we love you more than the oceans and the trenches in the oceans but, what we don't tell, is is a whole storyline of our wicked, selfish, stubborn nature.
Tears? Really?
Are you for real?
Are those even real?
Please. You always cry for something other than you are upset about. Your head is exploding with anger and frustration about how the universe throws you around like a freaking football and you start crying because you see a dead word? A dead flower?
Spilled ink?
Faded cut marks?
No. You just need an excuse to take the salt in your eyes out.
Who could really blame you?
You made yourself like this.
You, yourself is to blame.
Idiot.
When people matter more than nature, (They never do) you carry on as nothing happened. When inside your brain lobes you curse your every breath, regret every moment and yell at all pieces of burned memories.
Stupid heart.
The sheer force of royal blues hit you in your wings like that ice cold wind on the mountains.
Screw tears.
They don't matter.
-Invictus, Irum Zahra
*Copyrighted Material*
