Love

This is love – quiet and serene.

the lost

there is no happiness for the lost but an endurance run of searching and never finding.

late-night conversations

under the flickering lamplight, you and i laugh and mingle.

i’m fine

burying beneath thousand blankets thick,repressed emotions bloomin a garden of thorns and dripping bloodhidden behind masks of happiness,the golden standard of life on a pedestal,admired by pulsing hearts– beating for you, they say – feigned smiles and laughs tighten with lines of tiredness,sadness crashes over when the crowd dissipatestill nothing is left but gasped breathsreaching

porcelain mask

the mask hides what festers underneath.