How nonchalantly we made promises of a love eternal
And in the quest for eternity
We forgot how to not forget each other,
I had forgotten how it felt like
To be in his presence,
How he would talk of the faraway stars
As we sit under the moonlit sky...
I had forgotten his perfume
And he had forgotten
How my cheeks turn red
Every time I caught a glance of him.
In the quest for eternity
I wrote a million poems,
Letters I would not share...
We had forgotten how it felt like
To live in the "reality" people created.
We left things unsaid
Like we see in the movies written on ideas created by Shakespeare...
I would cut my wrists,
Drink wine to remember
And recite Bukowski and Plath
In the quest for the eternity they derived...
But most of the pages life did unfold,
Were nothing like the books he read,
Or the poems I wrote...
Life moved on,
One memory after another...
We kept forgetting
Each moment we thought we'd cherish.
Yesterday, I saw him again
His picture on my "news feed"...
I had forgotten how to love him,
So I drop him a "like".
He had forgotten how we would talk for hours
To forget about reality,
So he dropped me a "Hi".
From late night talks to facebook chats,
From long letters to simple "sup?"s
We reduce, we obliviate,
The magic of the stars,
We forget the love
And remember our quest for eternity
Turn into a busy day and tiring night..
It was either for the scorching sunrise that hurt her eyes or the cold breeze that blew scratching the fresh wounds on her arms, but Disha could tell that her friend had tears in her eyes for some reason or the other. “Nothing,” Razia said, when confronted by Disha, hiding her eyes as she wiped her tears with her hands. “Got paid?” Disha enquired. “Yes.” Lied Razia while walking towards the place she has been calling home from the past couple of years. She headed for the bathroom as she entered her room where two girls were sitting, one smoking a cigarette while the other wearing make-up in front of the broken mirror in the room. Razia cleaned her skirt that was smeared with her blood. She wasn’t prepared for it. After all it was that 14- year old’s first time. Not the first time that she had been “ridden” by men, nor the first time that she bled while bearing the intolerable pain the men gave her, but for the first time that she painlessly bled indicating a cycle o...
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