Pooja Chintamani > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

On my real experience where the girl on the bed expressing her last wishes.

In the darkest two hours of night, Those two again made me talk, Not for my sympathy, Not for grief... In the darkest two hours of night, Th..

When my whole substance does it work, Is that little mistake comes to dark? I am more heavenly peaceful than to hold it for and no one far..! W..

And the story will be.. A glass.. Me and invisibly you... And the theme will shine My drunken mind... Me and addiction of you. The jar o..

Some letters fall me..few ones feel me sure.. Some letters talk me.. Few ones deal me pure.. Some letters describes you.. Few ones tell me sure...

Around the table of my books.. Around the pages of my diary .. Rereading you and me again.. I emerged in fragrance like the stories of fairy.. ..

She never thought.. the stranger will be the one Wiping her tears.. Laying on the shoulder where presence of none... The Day she unknowingly sai..

In the bottle of short letters.. Rolls of colorful texts.. I was living d same day Wen you wrote d first pray.. In the bottle of short letter..

U creeped my soul with your eyes.. I never excuse.. A touch of your first sight, earned my heart.. I never excuse.. You took my ligaments to su..

that cold coffee nd you.. Hard breaths of silence nd you.. Those conversations nd you.. that blushing faces nd you.. Everything in dat ambien..