There are a lot of people

There are a lot of people
There are a lot of people

who call you by your name.

But there is only one person

who can make it sound

so damn special.
  

Sep, 25 2014     124 chars (1 sms)     4421 views       Love

more Love SMS Messages

Kahin wo mile to usay kehna K Lot aao
Lot aao k koi shiddat se
Barri muddat se Barri muhabat se tumhara intizar kar raha hai
Lot aao k
kisi ki bahare na hone se kisi ki aankhon mei nami or zindagi mei kami bohat zyada ha
'''' Why Do I Love You ???

Because

You Are
And
Always Have Been
My DREAM ... '''' (:
You Know It’s LOVE

When All You Want

Is That Person To Be Happy

Even If You’re Not

Part Of Their Happiness . . .
When you feel cold and warm at the same time,
when you read over the same line for the tenth time,
when your heart and thoughts somehow appear to rhyme,
and when a simple name conquers your whole mind,
then you are in deep trouble my friend...
you are in what they call, "love".
If 10 people care 4 u,
one of them is me,
if 1 person cares 4 u that would be me again,
if no 1 cares 4 u that means i m not in this world..
With every cut i make another feet i dig down deep,
bury me there with all the tears i weep.
fill it with my sorrows & all the blood i''ve shed..
Go on hurt me,kill me..let death be my eternal bed !!
Though we are very far apart, but somehow I always feel you
near my heart.
A Ball is
Escaped From a Bat.
A Rat is
Escaped From a
Cat
But
U
Donot
Escape
From my
"Heart".
Because
U
R
my
"HEART BEATS"
Simple truth of present:
if u dont want to know whats pain,
don't love anyone truely.

If someone loves you truly,
never show them whats pain.
~Author Unknown
I Had A Dream And It Was About You . . .
I Smiled And Recalled The Memories We Had . . .
Then I Noticed A Tear Fell From My Eyes . . .

You Know Why?

Coz In My Dream You Kissed Me And Said Goodbye . . ."
The essence of true love is not finding a perfect lover but loving an imperfect person perfectly.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.