My thoughts very often sprint in circles. Always falling back to the place they began from.
All triggered at the
slightest touch of reality
and imagination both.
What was that you last said?
I keep trying to recall for
your first goodbye wasn’t our last.
You come and go.
You come and go.
Tell me if there’s an end to this,
I’d want to try that because
this feels as if you holding
a knife right in front my chest.
Tell me what does it do.
Tell me why do you this.
Wondering is a part of our being.
And our being is another
wonder to the nature.
I think and think and think hard
and harder because
circles have no corners
or edges to press pause for a while.
They keep running and the
wondering never stops.
As though it were you.
I can’t think anymore.
At the end of a long day, I think about you again. You’ve become a habit now, the most pronounced sound in my almighty wretchedness. In this room of ephemeral solitude, we sit and listen to each other silence. No words are spoken here. Like always.
Time stands still and starts evaporating. I’m told a wise man once said nothing. I understand the beauty in his existence. And that in ours. We fall prey to the quietness inside us, a tranquil passage to what we can but might never be.
There is poetry in the way we love. I move my lips on your fragility, every murmur an earthquake. Your breath falls soundlessly on my skin, the night watching us become stories, hiding us away in between the pages of these years.
What more can we ever share, now that we’ve shared a silence?
I have always loved the darkness of nights.
I am not a morning person.
I would instead lay on the roof, star gazing and playing a favourite piece of music than basking in the morning sun.
I love nights, for it restores numbed zones of feeling and recharges desire.
In all the magnanimity of thoughts, it makes me wonder how the roads are easily lost.
I love nights, for the endless conversations I have had with my loved ones and also for the heartwrenching sobs.
Along with the fading of night, I think of more such things as to how the clouds snatched his sun
Until next night.
The day I learned not to bother about whatever was happening with you was the day I realized, that my heart is brave to strike off that one thing which I had kept on the highest pedestal since so long. That day I accepted that what’s not meant to happen, no matter how hard I try, no matter how far I run, will not happen. And practically speaking, there is no loss in losing what was never yours, there is no defeat in stepping outside, empty-handed, there is no guilt in giving up on something which never held on to you.
That day I understood that my heart isn’t a graveyard of your memories, where I had buried each one of them chronologically. My heart is certainly not a garden of remembrance where you visit once in a blue moon to offer your condolences to my fallen hopes.
The day your words managed to pierce through the walls of my delicate heart, which were once filled with love, only for you; that day itself you managed to earn my ignorance. From that day itself, your existence never really mattered to me, anymore. So, congrats you have permanently destroyed a perpetual source of love. You have been successful in pushing away a pair of palms that, whenever folded, prayed for you. You successfully lost each and every wish that was meant only for you.
But, forget not that everything, good or bad, eventually comes to an end. So will this, one day. For now, I am letting it burn, our unfinished book, I don’t remember what page number were we at, I don’t remember what chapter had I started before you tore it apart. Neither do I want to remember. I just hope you have a happy and a successful life.