Is this real for you? Because the more I keep running from you, the more I keep hiding from the truth. That we are professional heart breakers and menders; who swim in motion with our emotions but fail to dive deep into their oceans. We are like a freeway—express and free. But like opposing lanes, we never meet despite the proximity that we are right beside each other. That makes me wonder whether there’s a possibility that we truly never existed and if we indeed existed at all, what did we have? That makes me insist on knowing, next time, if we are real or maybe just another passage off some olden story. For the more you pull me towards you, the more its a bother as your rope loosens and makes me weak throughout the journey. For many weeks, we were like a beautiful morning; started out bright and optimistic. Then by the end of the day, we were torn, weary and lonely. And if you had let me be, you would have remembered that I was good at the trade. But you were better at breaking my creations, making me guilty for the way you had my castle crumbling.
The Traders
Black Roses 