Many times, we give beautiful names to our miseries and catastrophes. And that's how we lock down the memories inside us, from which we always want to escape.
He fed himself to the demons he had inside him, every single day. Just to save her, from being consumed by them.
I am that piece of a puzzle, which would never fit in any puzzles out there. I am that sky, which refused to turn blue every morning. I am that bird, which always had broken wings and yet always tried harder to fly. And I am that tunnel, which neither had a beginning nor end but one could always see the light at both the ends.
She was his favorite sin. She was not a habit for him anymore, she was an obsession.
The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.
A true romance is not something that happens between the skins. It is something that burns our souls beautifully and leaves us craving to be destroyed even more.
