For the thorns, with love
Part 4, Climax
It's raining again.
May be I should forget him now? Who knows what might have happened to him...
Who knows if he still remembers my name, my face- me as a whole- the way I remember him? Who knows if the remembrance of my existence still reverberates in the depth of his sighs, or mischevious glances appear in the corner of his eyes, perhaps relishing an umpteenth prey? My mind still wanders off to his thoughts on lonesome afternoons.
They say that the first shower of the season washes away all stubborn dirt & emotions. But this feeling, I believe, is meant to stay here for longer than I expected. Hidden in the creases of my memories; yet, existent: these are the visions that give me company in my leisurely hours.
It is true that he chose to step on the rose my heart dedicated to him. But how can I blame him, when I let its thorns grow around my heart, piercing & lacerating it to the core? My heart raised a garden with the barbs you gifted me, & now I find my painful peace here.
It is also true that flowers shrivel, fall off, & new buds take their place in the aftermath of monsoons, sunshine & storms. All of these finally become one with the Earth beneath, but their spirits continue to linger in the fragrance, speaking of the tales untold.
Likewise, may be someday I too will lose grip on the tangles that make my hands bleed today. But as long as they last, some memories are indeed worth the pain.