Sometimes some stories are just too much and many yet not in a particularly bad way. They are just overflowing with emotions and whatever makes you feel alive. They are everywhere, sleeping under my nose and cradling my skin while lulling me to digest it in my core.

They are there as alive as they can be, truly splendid and brilliant as it is. Shall be cherished, cradled in the nicest silks, gifted with the brightest jewels.

Nicest silk I can provide is my heartfelt wishes and the brightest jewels are made of my tears. 

So I can cry for the ones whose bodies are flowing with ink. Weep for the ones with paper skins, covered in hard covers as a fashion choice.

It is just formidable that they are as real, as alive as the ones with flesh and blood.

It feels warm, despite the unpleasantness of the hurt. Thus,I shall keep their mementos in my mind. Lest that their existence may crawl under my skin, loud as my own blood & tears. So that their stories can have “after”s while merging into my consciousness, with the endless possibilities of connections. After all,

I pray for those who concluded their breaths with a dot can exist beyond the line, too.