Love is not timeless. It has its limits. Sometimes it withers, sometimes it dies. Slowly, it grows old. What remains there is habit, its fierceness and intensity long gone; something mundane. Mundane like filling your coffee in the morning like brushing your hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. Like hanging your keys in the same place, putting on the same shoes. Mundane like returning to your garden each morning and watering your lilies so it doesn’t wither, so it doesn’t die.
Our memories strung together, Playing melody among the stars. Breaking silence, breaking night, Breaking me, breaking bars. The age old cage slowly opens, Of my heart, as it sings, Your words, melting down my spine, Sending chills, giving wings, To those butterflies, who for long, Were hidden in my own chaos. You let me fly, you let me fall, You love me long, you love my flaws. A little pleasure, a little pain, As you tell, now I feel it too. I feel the pain, I feel the night. And in that night, I fell for you.