HudaFatima

The noise of my tears break the silence of another October evening without her.

It’s hard to not write about ‘him’.

Pretty thing is a fiction because you know how it ends.

The heart has reasons of its own.

To ask you out.

Infatuation and love overlaps with driving one to do things which can’t be explained.

There is a nice touch to the air around when your eyes gets to settle on the guy you have been crushing over.

I wasn’t alone. I had me. So I cried to my heart’s content.

The world moves around me and I manage to remain in a haze of infatuation, My constant this year.

There is no time cap on how long before you will feel normal again after a loss to death.

No amount of my words and my description of him will do justice, he is so picturesque. I get entangled so swiftly.

Perhaps we all hope for a love which makes our heart less heavy.