Her vibe in all manners will smell of love,
not the kind which tore you apart,
which shattered you in sections.
Which introduced the terms of dumps and depression.
Which after one day to another left you counting the slip ups on your finger pores and all you could do was blame yourself for not filling the spaces they had.
Hey I swear, that wasn't your duty to stuff it up. You were not supposed to offer them a part of yours. The shoutings. You weren't supposed to engulf the venom ejected with harsh behavior or to apologize for things that weren't meant to be asked sorry for, but you did, you did your best.
Lets cut this, since it all became history. Past, and for now, you don't belong there. Her vibe in all manners, will smell of love maybe she will be the exact pattern of clumsy as you're the one who would make. you sit and stare.
Maybe, she will pull the chair, unfold her hair, tie the band on her hand and sing as if the world was waiting for her to begin with but then isn't she reckless enough to not care about the world?
paying attention to the lyrics of her own you will be over the concern that the genuine states of ecstasy never questioned imperfections, that she still means the lyricals even after pronouncing them wrong.
Her vibe in all manners will smell of love when the parted bench of the cheapest stall, will make the most of memories. The tenuous giggle will crop up as you will tell perception of love according to you is of no such importance, that love is nothing but a mere emotion that you a long time ago got rid of.
The giggle will echo through the lonliest of nights and you cant do nothing beside sitting across a window pane evoking a twisted smile asking yourself “are you in love?”
The wind along the shore will sing thousands of classical songs that were nothing to you more than a dream. On roads, where the ghost of past traumas were roaming once, you and her will step and dance along the rhythm of love.
It won't haunt you anymore and the walls next to your heart will collapse telling every inch of your soul that “youre in love.”
Hey, I swear. I'm not lying the storm casting destruction in your ways, will pass soon. brush off the scars of past and tell me if “She is the one” plays in your head, next time you meet her.
