Works in progress

It is time

It is time to open doors of houses hidden within this heart. Doors locked with feelings, desires and heartbreaks through crossfires. Where we take the pen and unlock those doors…

Time never healed the wounds for her, she never forgave the hurt, never. He promised her the world, to her, he hung the moon. But soon, she realized the real him. And it was then that she unlocked the feelings inside.

The scars vivid to their sights are just face value. They did not feel the cutting, the bleeding, the healing. The ways she was dealing with it all. She found him easy, and she fell hard. Felt her heart pound as he roamed her mind. It was love, she thought. Because he brands me each time we meet with fists, its love. He reminds me of who I belong to, yes with slaps and words that hurt, he reminds me.  And to me its love. Yes she is me.

When she opened the door, the other and holding its handle, she found the real him, love not lust and it was time to move on. Time to live through writing.

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