I climb up the terrace and look at the city. Our city once, just mine now. The lights make the night less dark sadly not my life. I look at the city that seems so quiet in the dept of the night hiding so much pain. So much love. Love creating storms within us, walking grenades, not exploding. We've mastered the art of self destruction, somehow our grenades destroy just us, without a noise. Walking wreckage plastered with the most beautiful smiles. Our generation. The one with the best technologies. Where can we exchange our hearts please? Tonight I'll allow myself to be weak, to shed some tears. The night is kind. Silent. Non judgemental. I don't know how many nights I've spend shedding tears, but I'm greatful the moon could keep a secret. The sun needs smiles. The sun opens people's eyes only to question the pain in some one else's. Not bothered. Just curious. Just an amuse. Just a story to quench their bored minds. When night comes those same eyes turn away without looking twice, to have their peace. To let down their disguise. To be the wreck that they've become. Cause when daylight comes, it's time to be human again.

She hopes of flying with broken wings
He could cripple her heart, 
                                    Not her dreams...

She's the kind of girl who always carries a book in her bag, just in case she needs to get lost. 

Once upon a time, he wanted to live for me

It's a sober spring afternoon. We go to the bridge in the garden behind my house to watch the sun kiss the waters goodbye. He isn't his happy self today. His eyes hold a story. I wait for it.
"People say 'I'd die for you', like it's even romantic." He spits his words disgusted. His brown eyes burning with some grief unknown.
"I watched my mother after he died.", he says slowly.
"My father. Died for her they say. It was love they say. Or maybe he chose the easy way out. I'd never know..." He's holding the railing of the bridge, his tendons visible by the pressure of the grip. "I watched her suffer every single day with the agony of losing him. Why should someone else carry the blame of his cowardice? Dying for someone!" He says the line last with his teeth clenched. With so much anger, so much pain, it's almost scary.
"& what happens after you die for someone? You die and put them through hell! How can you be okay with hurting someone you claim to love?" I've never seen him talk so much. He turns, the fire his gaze holds soften as I see myself in his eyes. Burning amber melting into the soft chocolate brown I loved. Deep. Gentle. Holding love greator than the pain they've seen. He holds my face every so gently, his thumb tracing my cheekbone and says, "Is it wrong if I say, I want to live for you?"

"You don't talk about him, do you?"
My head spins and my heart screams your name as if you were the only "him" it knew.
"No, I don't." I say avoiding his eyes.
"You should, you know? Maybe you'd feel better."
I laugh. "Better." My eyes full of tears.
"Maybe I could help?" He says hopefully.
"I'm afraid if I talk about him, I'd go back to where I was that night. Sad. Broken. Alone. I'm afraid the darkness would drown me. I'm afraid, this time, I won't remember how to swim."

About Love

He looks at her like she's the only girl in the room. He looks at her like nobody else is worth looking at, at all. He looks at her like people look at the stars or like peopl look at art. He looks at her, like she's beauty. He looks at her like she's magic. Like she's hope. Something about the way he looks at her makes me want to be her, or at least see her, the way he does. Maybe its something about her that gravitates his eyes towards her, holding them there? Or maybe its something about him, the way he loves her, that makes you believe that love exists. And it probably looks like this. Like maybe someday someone will look at you like you're their personal heaven on earth and maybe just maybe you'll then realize, it wasn't about him & it wasn't about her, it was about love. Love that they shared.