They said- " more you practice, better it becomes"
I tried to move on from the problem
But every goodbye was harder than before.
All the people I met , all the memories I made
Some shone like gold, some I wish I could evade
There was care and there were cuts
Words sharper than the sharpest of blades
Out of everything else , I rue one thing the most
'She' and her everlasting presence
Which refused to call my heart an abode
I tried to move on but the path ahead
Only made me miss her more
If ever she could see from my heart
This story would be part of a folklore
Was she right , am I wrong
Only time will tell,
For now I bid goodbye
Walking with me is my own personal hell
There is one thing that is certain
That there is no one who could love her like I do
If they indeed can
Then they deserve her more
And you may very well ignore , this stupid rant.