Blood runs through veins

It is becoming a habit, And we do not even realize

The cycle comes back and repeats itself
Where I collapse and you collapse
And we loose our sanity.

The throwing of things, And the banging of head
Are the middle act of, What starts with arguments
And ends in tears.

Nothing has changed at all, And each time the history is still involved.

The apologies held no meaning, Of the incomprehensible mistakes.

Wonder how long we keep repeating it , Or let it get rooted in our brains
Run like blood, Through our veins

And just live like nothing happened,
Like it is normal to live this way, Forget what the world has to say

It is our story anyway, We define and sketch it
The way we want it.

My History

There is so much I have told you
but nothing you have known yet
Each moment is a story
a sad and a happy one.

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 I dug open my heart that day.
 Reached at the bottom of six feet
 and unearthed my grave.

 You sat on the sofa with a glass of vine
 and I sat on the floor, right next to your feet
 my eyes locked with yours, my soul listening to you.

 You asked me my story, my life in the history
I knew this was coming.
It was about time when you spoke those words.
I sat motionless for a while.
Did not speak and the room was quiet.

As I started living my history again.
I saw your eyes, glistening blue
and mine maroon into you.

And in that moment, we did not rush
with each breath in that moment
took it easy, my history.

And then the dreadful happened the next day
you left me and I left you
our souls were unknown to us
our life ahead was marred
by my history.

 

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