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I love that word. Seeker, cause I am the one to be counted on. What I seek, exactly, the imaginative presence or forbidden realities of you?
Would you help me in correcting the wrong which isn't exactly wrong neither right in some way? I know you will cause you always said that it's not right what I chose to live with the accidental memories of us. So should I live like dead cause the option to live without you is not what I seek? Don't be afraid, be carefree.
it is a soft impression that paves the way to the shore with the high tides trying to seize its part essential to be onshore rather than under the water to visualise the shadow of time that concocted sweet&sour profiles of love which isn't soft but sacred as if the gem in the blues of the ocean.
What else do I seek, sugar-coated pain to pursue the reality that ensnares the lies to feel more of love I left behind in the process of surviving pain rather than living within.
कुछ बातें हैं अनकही, तभी इश्क अधूरा रहा आखिर एक तरफा है जिसका सिर्फ जीकर सुनता रहा।
I love that word, For approaching you the main purpose, After having a little conversation for a while, To build a connection between us, Through awkward texts, Yet, my thumbs keep pursuing each button of the keyboard, To express personal thoughts and feelings, Through beautiful words that I've written, Only for you, To touch the soul of yours, To see the smile's beauty of yours, And getting one's attention, Only every once in a year, At the specific date, To express them, Today is the right timing, To use my secret weapon, Of greeting your special day, By expressing my words that long-hidden, And for sure you'll read them, Those three words are simple, But its true meaning will hit your heart, Each letter show my happiness, Only for you, So, "Happy Birthday You".
I love that word, tradition. A bit archaic yet it settles in the lower pocket of beliefs, I've seen it escaping from hourglass almost everyday, but now it seems to fade away like clouds after raining.
When the skies were bluer we stitched confetti's on empty walls and greetings on the tip of our tongues, we filled hungry stomachs with spices and herbs like rifles stuffed with guncottons.
When I saw time being naked, the last time, it was Diwali where dull hearts and pale skin bloomed into scarlet and beige shades, hope was a little brighter while sorrows a little fainter, and humanity screamed as a loudest forever.
I love that word, tradition. Which bring our hearts closer like orchids, roses and lilies in same fence, but we are drifting apart in this pandemic, till what remains is our own selves. ~Purva