Just A Talk All She Loved

It’s was all about a long talk over a couple of coffee or a drink, she loved the idea of talking about everything on earth which made no sense most of the time. Liking the voices which were hitting the mind over and over again.

Everything was falling on the place which mattered the most. This made her get herself distracted by the reality checks of other dimensional of enormous pain, Which disappeared for the time of a long time. It was not rocketed science. All the things mattered her was just the talks which absorbed her pain adding a smile on her face.

She liked the way that someone is giving they time to her which made her feel good. The coffee never tasted better with many favors. And a couple of extra drinks didn’t bother her much since she knew it was safe that nothing could go wrong. So she would fine.

There was a blushing smile on her face with happiness connecting her heart. She lived the movement. Even though it was uncertainties of fake promises and assurance to heal her broken soul again. Still, she liked those time with good memories which kept her going and lovable.

  • Sangavi
  • Being In Love is Being in the second life of the fantasy; I keep myself drunk in poems where I live a life of all the poets;
    Emily Dickinson, ‘Much Madness Is Divinest Sense.’
    Anonymous, ‘Fowls in the Frith.’ This poem, which is around 800 years old, is ambiguous
    Oliver Goldsmith, ‘An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.’

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