You were my unfinished poem and you weren’t meant for the finished poem.
I used to love your company until or unless something inexplicable happened between Us. I don’t know what it was, maybe it was the ill-effect of the post-pandemic stress that everyone is feeling right now, in their day to day unoccupied occupied schedule.
Or it was when I wrote a poem ‘pretender’ for you. things changed over time. I never thought it was too fast to come by. I remember I wrote forever is a myth, nobody stays forever. everything is ephemeral… I guess, I smelled the fading absence of yours in nearby future.
You know, how I dare to write these by so boldly about you because I know you never read my writings and it easily swept away under your moled nose. you know, I have hated the fact that I loved you. But, just thinking about you keeps my never-changing decision changed. your thoughts remind me that *you were my unfinished poem* and you weren’t meant for the finished poem.
you are my source of inspiration. every little or less imagination arrives at *the last train to your heart.* and the best part is, it never instil itself to depart, until or unless I feel the feeling of being departure – the feeling of unrealistic togetherness.
Maybe we pretend like everything is the same between us, maybe everything is ephemeral and nobody stays forever. but the feelings I feel for you will always remain the same like the dried precious petals hidden in every next page of the never-ending book. reminding me of that – if one of those petals flew away with the winds; others shall remain and retain with myself.
P.S: it was a never-ending story. My heart wants to write more but I stopped it by doing so…
Thank you !!
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