Prabhdeep Dhaliwal
Bio
20 years old, writing my feelings away
Stories (2/0)
Mess
In the songs and the books, they write of being a mess as though it was visible. As though it looked like the aftermath of a forest fire or a tsunami. They describe it as though that person was a messy room, clothes on the floor, last night's dinner on a table, pillows on the other side of the room, paper peeking out from under the bed.
By Prabhdeep Dhaliwal6 years ago in Poets
Dead Leaves
As September rolls around and colder weather ensues, I'm still falling asleep wrapped in memories and thoughts of you; bittersweet yet enough to keep me warm. The way you used to look at me, how warm you were, the way your hands felt across my body, laying on your chest, holding your hand, oh god, just everything. I should be over you by now, it's been probably four months since you last texted me and five since we last spoke. Five months since I heard your voice, the voice I'd hear at least once over a five day period. It killed me to see you post about her on social media after keeping mum for a few months. You must be happy and I want that for you. Maybe it was right person, wrong timing for me but the right timing for you and her. And maybe, you told her about me because you're a honest person and maybe she didn't approve of my feelings for you. I'll keep telling myself that she didn't want you talking to me so you stopped...
By Prabhdeep Dhaliwal6 years ago in Poets