Posted in Wonderers

Changes

I am always in awe of how things change over the fractured time. The silence change, the feelings change, the life changes. So do people around us. It a continuous process of evolving, that brings about this catastrophe of changes in humans with some getting hurt with existance of others.

The cities that once smelled of the colonge of her sweet bodily smell, now welcomes the stranger with bare hands. She still calls this city home, sniffing in the various smell of street conrners. Some of tragedy and some of melody. Yet the lanscape is strewn with so many souvenir, where once a memory existed. A confession, a kiss, the abysmal break down, and finding hope under the dim street lamp of wayfarer.

The bittersweet still burns her throat, as she gets hurt everytime she passes through the silent bench that held some stories unspoken. The weight of unspoken words still sits with perhaps, wondering about the edges and blossoms the story could have undergone. It is a myth now after all. No pages to be burnt no photographs to be torn.

He looks at the sky, through the window of the air plane. There was this urge of rolling down the glasses and feeling the wind on his face, just like he did few years back. The bus would carry him through the labrynths of city soothing his pain, cradling his shoulders with assurance. Everything will be alright. Though he knew, nothing will until he starts leaving. And leaving is a irony in itself, more often than not, we leave without choices and in process we let all those memories stay. Stay there weeping, laughing and easing with time.

I have seen people changing through iridescent of colours. Their choices, their environment their wishes. A slow process of a beautiful evolution. You, stare at yourself in the mirror and feel how time is flowing eloquently through the creases of your imaginary wrinkles caressing the places of stitching. A stitching that hides. A stitching that holds. You stare at them, and celebrate their evolution, tiptoeing out into some other changes. Your evolution, own ways of acceptance and giving up.

I wish you colud have stayed, and extended your hands a little further. This time maybe the tips of our fingers would have touched and like two sinking ships we would have shared condolences and laughed about just like we did few month ago, but it is too late to be soon, and all I can do is watch you from distance be a guest in this chapter of your unfinished novel.

Yours,
Amartya.


©Jumbled Letters.

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From reflection to shadows, they all whisper silent tales.

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