How long has it been when you last thought about the sweven that once used to occupy you entirely. The dreams which used to captivate your thoughts, your senses.
When you cross the path which you once hiked, hands in hands, shoulders with shoulders, collateral legs. A feeling so complete that not even for a while you thought if this stound is going to dwell for long. Will it be a forever? Or just the path will be left and the two souls will diverge and run apart from the tract.
But when the story concludes(which you never thought would happen) and the book is closed, the pages unfold and the memories come forth as bold capital letters raising before your eyes just like the inevitable winds tapping your face and with every word refreshes the transit memories, a gone moment, a little infinity.
The feeling of reminisce when those dedicated songs beats into your ears, when you taste their favorite food, when you revisit the places you once sojourned together, the essence of characteristic aura of your beloved, when you run through the letters, those endless conversations. It’s wonderful how much can be adjured with a few notes of a song or a distant whiff of a room.
Even the Seasonal behavior retraces back the time. The falling rains, the scorching heat, the humid wind messing with the hairs, the blooming spring, the pale mellow autumn leaves, the battling of the metro engines, the historic walls, the soft grass, the traveled routes and the inestimable flashbacks which even the words could not suffice.
And the tears, the idle tears, the ones from the depth of some divine despair. They rise in the heart and gather into the eyes. They look on the happy summer fields and think of the days that are no more. The kisses seems to be lost in the jest, the hugs in the play but the depth of those eyes haunts me night and day.
For many people the memories they cherish before breakup later becomes their worst enemies. And you hear your friends saying ‘Move on! You deserve better’. But No! that’s not what love is. For me, reminiscing those memories and living in them is quite better than locking them in a box, hiding it in dark and throwing the keys away. I prefer living in a time where all my yesterdays were buried deep because I have no idea about the future but I definitely know one thing that there will be no better time than the one I already lived. And I know I still endure in the memories and the memories still dwells in me and the past beats inside me like a second heart.
Though the book is now closed but when the pages unfold, they refresh the juncture heaped on my heart and the old flashbacks that abide in me.
May be a happy ending does no include togetherness. It’s just the love you took most out of that book. So let the pages unfold and let the memories crawl into your veins, pick up the pieces and start writing another book- your brand of love. Your brand of life.
Let there be endless toasts of love, an overdose of it… Fulsomeness of awesomeness…a plethora of smiles…. A strong and everlasting you.