Cheeks coated in wetness, raw your eyes have become. You turn on the lights and brightness confines darkness inside. You’d have to wait for that darkness to wear off, to see all the emotions pour out as a seamless amalgamation of a wide varieties of voids. Love voids; the most fatal void. The void that speaks without words, The words that suffocates with pain. Love, drumming of hooves, cloudy skies, cold breeze, warm sound, calming smell, that feeling of vulnerability. Tell me what they mean? Our capacity to love would be memories, Only because you love and hate memories. And also because of the fact that the memory even when it fades, stays in the end. But you seem to pretend, that after going to sleep that memory will somehow never comeback.