our scribbled song

He knocked on a rainy day

slipped a letter through the door

called out my name

and went away.

On the parchment were his worries and smiles

a few tear drops

a dried wallflower

and his smell that took me away a thousand miles.

I could hear him sing..

it's scribbled in the stars

we've gotta steal galaxies and call them ours

we belong together honey, it's been so long

listen to the ocean it sings the same song

So let's hold hands and sway

I've got sunshine I wanna give away

wanna touch your soul, wanna touch your skin

I'll always love you no matter where you've been.

So I pack my bags and tie my hair

seal the windows tight

blanket the beds

to tell you the truth, I really din care.

Rushed down the stairs

found him waiting there

with a red umbrella, glitter in his eyes

he promised only sweet dreams, no more nightmares.

And I could hear him sing..

it's scribbled in the stars

we've gotta steal galaxies and call them ours

we belong together, honey it's been so long

listen to the ocean it sings the same song

So let's hold hands and sway

I've got sunshine I wanna give away

wanna feel your soul, wanna feel your skin

I'll always love you no matter where you've been

O darling, but I'll love you, no matter where you've been.

Until we meet again,
Love, always
S

Comments

Miles of space to play with

People like to believe the universe is some grand orchestrator, shuffling fate cards like a moody blackjack dealer. But sometimes, it just sits back with popcorn and watches two people fumble their way into a slow-burning disaster that smells vaguely of espresso and unresolved tension. Enter Nat and Miles, two souls with more chemistry than a freshman lab fire, and just about as much common sense. By now, I assume you know Miles a bit. So allow me to introduce Nat. Nat. Now there’s a piece of work the universe clearly cooked up on a cheeky day. All sharp wit, unreadable playlists, and the kind of elegance that doesn’t try, it just is. She walks into a room like she already knows the ending but still watches everyone else catch up. She’ll dissect a business pitch, write a blog that punches through your chest, and still look vaguely annoyed that you haven’t figured out how she takes her coffee (strong, like her opinions, with a splash of skimmed milk and quiet judgment). But don’t be foo...

When the stars gazed back at us.

When the stars gazed back at us, it was not about beginnings; it was about recognition. About that rare, almost fleeting moment when the universe did not feel distant or indifferent, but attentive, almost complicit. ;) I woke up remembering you, All your words, old and new. Of dreams I hold of lands unseen, As if your name’s the hum I’ve known, your face the only thing I’ve seen. Even the sun bears your name, Without you, rain feels strangely tame. They may call me mad, broken, or even wrongly built, I’d still reduce to dust all that may keep us apart, without remorse or even a speck of guilt. You and me, we took an oath, To be each other’s home through misery and gloat. If I were to do it all over again, I would, of course, I would, Wouldn't change a thing even if I could. I’ve held you through your sin, you’ve seen me through my crime Miles and miles I’ve carried all your shadows; you have borne witness to mine. Across all lives, though you forg...

Notes from the Aphelion

There’s a story I’ve been carrying inside me for a while. Not a plot line or a pitch, but something else, something that feels like memory but also like myth. And it’s not about love, not the kind we usually talk about. It’s about Time . Yes, Time . That ever-present, slightly dramatic character that haunts everyone’s calendars, under-eyes, and birthday cake candles. Except in this story, Time isn’t a villain. It’s.. well. It’s something closer to God. And this girl I’m going to be telling you about, let’s just say she wasn’t born for chasing trends or hurrying through moments. She was more of a dusty piano in a world obsessed with bluetooth speakers. A little out of place, a little out of sync, but stubbornly intact. This story isn’t a love story in the classic sense. There are no stolen glances or sweeping gestures. But it’s still about love - the strange, slow kind. The sort that grows without asking. The sort that isn’t always easy to see, until one day, you realise it’s be...

Hello, there!

Search This Blog