I have always refused to believe, that This Place actually exists.

A place where feelings can only be translated through poetry,

Where only love songs can convey the intensity.

To enter This Place feels like a long overdue salvation,

Like the first drop of rain greedily drunk by the parched soil.

To leave This Place is like being banished from Heaven,

Like my beating heart crudely ripped out without surgical tools or compassion.

But I now realise, I simply cannot function in either of those dimensions.

The unending cycle of euphoria and despair causes me to completely malfunction.

I am choked by a noose made with the fume of sighs,

I gasp for air but try to tighten this murderous necktie.

The only sensible thing, is to live within a senseless cushion,

Where the numbing daily grind offers me a poisonous protection.

In fact, I thought I had already got used to the new way,

But damn my foolish playfulness, I again crossed heaven's barricade.

I'm a trespasser who wants to be reminded,

What it is like to be connected to my senses.

Like an anaesthetic that is ultimately forgetful,

The onslaught of pain should make me resentful.

But no, this is furthest away from the truth.

My love for you should be enough to prove, that no matter what you do,

I will be your life-long friend,

I will fight this battle till the very end.

To make you believe that love can be pure and without agenda.

But it will take time for me, and at times I will still wonder.......

Was I only dreaming of This Place.....?