Scribble Me Words

    Eleven years ago, feels like a lifetime ago. Eleven years ago, I was at the end of my tween years when I found a love. As cringy as that may sound, it’s true. “What Makes You Beautiful” played on the radio one night, and I was hooked. The ascent to an obsessed Directioner was quick. Binge-listening to their songs, learning the boys’ bios, their likes and dislikes, scrolling endlessly through videos and pictures of them, it was a one-way ticket for me, destination: everything One Direction. I wrote about them in my diary, crafting update after update and decorating it with articles I cut out from newspapers without anyone noticing.      Then came newfound acquaintances with classmates who shared my love for the band. Our combined love made us die-hard fans. We learned the lyrics, belted out their songs during free periods and recesses, and made our own fan book filled with articles and pictures of our boys. We welcomed boys who shared a love for their mu...

Image Credits: thecoolist.com I dream of you in vivid colours, Happy moments, fleeting minutes that pass on all too soon. You're long gone,  I don't hold out hope of ever seeing you again. Is it too selfish to be thankful? Not ageing into childhood. Thought you'd stay a while longer, But the scary whirlpool is now at rest.  I dream of you in colour. It's hard not to. I'm not trying to. You yell at me, disappointed, I'm nothing like you and I'm nothing like me. You're alive in my dreams, Blood pumping the way it's supposed to, Eyes vibrant, that's how they should be. You're smiling. It's been a while since I've seen those gleams. I dream of you in black and white, We were laughing at the moon. Mystical being. Spot on the phone. Our feet meeting deserted streets, That was our paradise.  Can the dead really live again? We force them alive, In pictures and memories and flashbacks and regrets. That's how they'd want it, We tell our...

I'll save you between my pages Give you an afterlife of sorts And when I unravel the things I hold dear And the silence threads itself through my veins I'll still have you speaking to me through those pages.  If your crimson blood fades to nothing among the leaves If the silence of your existence Talks louder than your whispers I’ll follow your steps into oblivion and back Where the sun and the moon braid their light And the stars align in the night Write to me in mystic symbols  Sing to me in symphonies of distance  Speak to me with your eyes of diamonds  Your soul spun from innocence  So if I were to fall asleep in perpetual longing Your lasting image will be mine to keep.