Three eighty-five hundred kilometres away weeps the earth for its love, the moon. And a little more far, we drift from each other night after night, as I pretend like nothing is falling apart.
How easy it is to feed myself with all those lies, just so that I can sleep one more night. How tough it is to pile my heart up with all those remembrances, just so that I don't give up on us until one more fight.
It is pitiful, how often I lie to myself, just because I am too scared to move on. It is pathetic, how easily I betray myself, every time I chose not believe that the love that once held us together, is now gone.
But hail this world we live in, here moving on is deemed to be a curse, So, may be despite all the distance that grows every night, I will still pretend like Me N You are still us.
Ps. I wrote it in first person so that it offends no one, but if you are still holding on to what hurts you, then the 'I' in the poem could be you. Moving on from what hurts your heart is absolutely fine, no matter how much you are frowned upon. The one who deserves your love the most is no one else but you.
tranquilizingwindAnother wonderful piece. Your PS is what I loved the most cuz growing apart from our own self and then healing from hurt is kinda deep shit which sucks real bad. A charismatic delicacy long desired