The hair moving along with those gale, some strands silenced my words, some strands prevented my eyes to seek the shelter in biting winter winds. The agrestal vines look complicated just like my life as if trying to find some way to ESCAPE.
The sun shines like the brighest star in night. The soul within, finds its only shelter where this ladder can take it to. -- the sky between those pink and tangerine clouds. I want to escape to that height from where I can forget all my troubles and solve my complications, where the miniature world seems free from impurities and where the words are inhaled and the poetry is exhaled.
I want to climb that ladder so that I can touch various constellations, those amazing patterns and want to dance to the tintinnabulation of the fairy bells that is played by those twinkling stars. The stardust that is poured in my boots help me escape this world to a mirror world where solitude is what I found.
I want to climb that ladder upto a place where no winds broke my string of words, where every fragrance fathoms my mess, where every music efface my scars, where every word spoken turns into some poetry and where its placid view furnishes my soul with some strange feeling of contentment and a sigh of bliss.
Everytime I see that dark scarf around my neck, I feel those arms around me. The mirror denies to accept that scarf. The long woollen sleeves of my pretty black sweater always remind me of his jacket that I wore when the icy winter touches my shrivelled cheeks.
A handful of sere leaves crumbled just so easily like me without him. All the blood of my heart was taken away, he being the leech. Still those toes touch the white blanket of snow and remain numb. The memory of this loss is so painful that I want to obliterate it from my mind, yet atleast one good memory of his abides in the back of my mind, within the walls of my broken heart.
The trees let go off its leaves, but there is me who can't let go the fake him and his fake love. I know the new flowers will bloom after this winter, but I ask myself, if I'll be able to bloom ever, if the winter of my life will turn to other seasons ever and if I'll be able to love anyone the same way I loved him forever. I collapse everytime I see him in photographs or in the flashback, I became numb standing like a forlorn figure in the bus stop, where no bus arrives.
L O N E L I N E S S . . . It continues "everafter" (a happy ending for him but a lonely one for me)
Isn't there something really pretty about the night? The blinking stars, the staring moon with soft music of sky, The non-stop chortling and a gentle delight, The warmth of home, the love of families where lie.
The empty streets with no chaos and grief, The steady pebbles seem no less than a tomb, But, the pink and white blossoms give us some relief, The melodic dew and the sunrise brings hope.