An ache of being abandoned by all those who I loved the most and the anxiety that creeps up my flesh making me appalled by the apocalypse that is yet to come. An emotion that I will be left behind with my anticipations and worries absorbing my own self and everyone's absence.
Fabricating and magnifying the idea of being forgotten never lets me sleep peacefully, how funny is it that I want to live in everyone's memories forever and ever? I don't want to fade away in those empty frames and flames that will turn me into some history with a fainting face and absolutely no stories
They buried her memories in me– in an empty wooden frame All her moments, all her screams, all her lies, all her cries in this one wide frozen smile. Do you still remember the day when she first walked and how she fell thousands of times? I was still there, with a different frozen smile. Do you still remember the day when she spoke her first word? "Goodbye", she spoke. I was still there watching her predict the future. Do you still remember the day when she giggled and waved at a passing train, her tiny mouth uttering that newly learnt word? I was still there, in her hand like the friend who is always by her side. Do you still remember the day when she called the boy next door as her "lover"? I was still there laughing and waiting for two beautiful smiles to embrace me. Do you still remember the day when she was first heartbroken and she cried for hours just to forgive him? I was still there, empty with dented edges and broken glass, letting the photograph burn. Do you still remember the day when she wrote a letter to you all with a single word written on it? I was still there, helpless and letting her go. I wanted to tell her that it's okay, you are not a motionless photograph. I know you are broken but you are not a frame that can't be healed again. All these days, I was the closest thing to her, I am a dirty, old frame that still remembers her touch, that still remembers the taste of her tears, that still remembers the sound of her silence that still remembers the day she was lost. I still remember HER. Every day, I see them crying who buried her in me and I keep on reflecting that perfect smile of her as if she was never lost. But "She was lost in her longing to understand"
The kwansaba is a poetic form invented by Eugene B. Redmond. It is a poem of praise or celebration written in seven lines consisting of seven words each. Additionally, no word in the poem should exceed seven letters.
Environment is glittering like gold A new bride getting ready to rejoice in her new colours ready to leave her family shedding her old thoughts to begin new life flying with the wind dressed crispy and looks happy.
The concert between the crispy leaves alongwith the wind singing in chorus brings joy and harmony to the new beginning. IT MUST BE OCTOBER ! Orchestra of Autumn playing the tunes.