Walls

There has always been something special about friendship,
The wall seems to be narrow, and the bonding too deep,
It doesn't matter how many bricks are between us, my shadow falls onto her face,
Because I was visible in the way she talks, there was always my reference,
And there always comes a part of the day where for a moment she could feel me, not being with her,
Eternity is ambiguous and could never be pursued forever,
They now see each other secretly; there still is something deep within,
There is a strange fatigue in the situation; Emptiness is where we fit in,
We are not only cooking pot of the poisons in our hearts; we are also the casserole,
And true, they say, very fragile is the wall between body and soul.

The truth is not always what you see. It is about what you actually want to see. You cannot let go your whole life based on truth. Because, sometimes, it is a lie that we count on for our togetherness.

And when I said that I do not need you, I actually wanted to keep us together, with that lie.

When the winter of life comes, and the mist lifts from the valley of veins,
And when there would be a new hope to find happiness
in gray,
When seeds would find a new way to cascade down deep, to shape harder roots,
And when the buds would hibernate to wake up in spring,
I will meet you in the middle, to tell you,
Look, everything needs to sleep so that it can wake up the other day,
And we never always sleep with dry eyes,
Look at the bud now; you could see the moistness
in its eyes,
No one wants to change when they are perfect the way they are,
It was never us, who chose separate ways to go,
But let the things be the way they are,
And when I will see you in the bloomed days,
I know in the midst of the spring there will still be the patches of winter gone by.

It is not always the ego that kills friendship.
Actually, it can never be killed.
You, just go away, because you know that her life would be better without you.

“Friendship is forever. Even when it’s not.”

The Curtains hanging on the walls have so many
stories to tell,
So many moments it has felt,
So many secrets they hide, so many moments, so many fights do they record,
Ask those curtains to evaluate the love I have for you,
Because there are so many things that either I know or the curtains knew,
Ask the rain which is envious of my intensity of bursting out for you,
Ask the shadows that always have a shape of you,
There is a picture of you hanging on my wall,
And I hear it whispering, advising me, for all the good and bad things I do,
Sometimes you leave people behind and build walls to push them away from your life,
But the problem is that, in building walls you lose
your heart,
And then there is no one to save you,
And even now when I open the door and look at the picture of you, I could see you waiting for me,
And as the frame slightly reacts to the wind gushing into the room,
It always says: -“You are late my buddy”.