It is the tale of the time
when our love was new and our egos were small,
When my heart would beat and next your name appeared on the screen
When on issueless strifes,
we would not mind spending sleepless nights
When my heart would sink on your week long absence.
And today we are here, not sure either our names are in any of the drawers of the heart or not.
Digging out the pasts and wondering either we were or not?
What a paradox of time;
we now are,
but we never were!
That with each taken breath was getting
blacker and danker and darker.
Her hopes mixed with miry water became
saline and murky and unsavoury.
Her eyes brimmed, looking for someone familiar . Her mouth gasping, tasting her last words.
A sudden warm touch.
A man with a face so beautiful that it made her heart
beat and melt and dream.
He handed his hand in her hand to free her off . Their fingers
locked and interlaced and warm.
His eyes. They were more captivating than his beaming face. No one can escape the lure with which they weave the stairs to the dreamland.
That dreamland that had
trees and brooks and breezes.
Treading on that land i came across the gateway to his heart that was clasped with
wires and chains and rust.
She tired herself out unlocking that door with all the strength she could muster. But the door had iron locks and his heart had iron will.
She returned tangled to her swamp-land which was her
Fate and home and destiny.
Spilled all over, dripping from the paperback …