There is a heart beneath layers of skin. There is a heart behind his habits, his behavior. A heart maybe not of gold, but silver so pure and so very soft. This heart that keeps him alive, keeps her alive too. It's the same heart that beat when he wrote her fifty songs for their fifty days. And he lives for her almond-scented skin. He lives for her sound.
He's seen the world and the world's seen him.
I write this because I know he will never read it. He's far away.
In my eyes he's forever blue.
22/04/2018
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An artist is rarely bridled with practicalities and perhaps it is that
freedom which allows him to construct his dreams, make something out of
nothing. But...
6 comments:
<3
Which one is this about? :D
HAHAHA. You don't get to ask that.
You don't owe him anything. You broke his, he broke yours. All square. You don't owe him anything, he doesn't owe you anything. So,yes, he 'doesn't' get to ask that.
HAHAHA. No. Aap rehnay do.
Lol, i'm not getting it too. Rather its all some personal stuff i guess. :P
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