The Last Note

Its a dull night. Its a black night. There isn't any moon in the sky. The wind has refused to tinker my soul and the stars look like barren white dots, the shapes of which do not make any meaning.
I look at a snap which I took with you, its a memory. Its past. Is it ? It is so unreal or is it my shabby unconscious brain whose stimuli to you is so uncontrollable.
Today my heart has withered with time. It feels barren. There are emotions which feel balanced but the tranquility within still seeks for madness. Madness to be with you.

Life for the last 3 years has been a life which was usual. I met you, I was with you, but I wasn't with myself. I wasn't aware of the hidden treasures. Living life with you, loving you like daily was just paradoxic. We lost the beauty, we lost its charm. We lost the desperation of letting our souls meet. You left me hitherto to the fact and no reasons other than this. Life isn't the same now, it is mundane, it is the same journey but today it is incomplete, empty and uneven and the last person I always went to was you is also deserting me today. You should not have left, I would have never left you alone.

I am alone, as I sit beside the window, I seek you, I want you to enter my life through the window in to my heart. Time abides you. Time restrains you. But does time stop you from Loving me ? Does time abide your love for me ? I don't know today. Questions I ask from life, questions I ask from myself, questions I ask from you are irrelevant. Because I am not finding any answers to my last 2 years with you.

Today when you feel that the overtures of life have condemned happiness upon you, when petals are lying stray at your feet, it was me whom you cremated with so much gregariousness. But through the burning ashes I rise up and I refuse to lose.

One day you will miss our life. One day you will realise I wish I had taken that step forward. I wish I  held his hand. I wish I didnt go. This is a note from the ego of the love I had for you.

Its time to say Goodbye, Its time for me to leave.

Pic courtesy : Jigar Mehta

The Last Story

The night just seems so lull, a very few little stars and the presence of the facading moon seems so absent in the dark sky. A wet pillow, the slithered bed sheet, the empty lines and a cold inked fountain pen resembles my mood tonight. 
A few deep thoughts and some grossly unaltered emotions disturb the unaltered depth of my unconquered heart.

The shallow breeze shivers my uncovered skin and arouses the dubious intentions of serenading my existence. The tears are so dry, that they even scorch the eyelids, when it feels numb inside. 

As Jim Morrison once said, "Death is a good disguise, for late at night..." I wonder is it really late enough to give up ? My coffee's cold, it antagonises my addiction, stimulates an unwanted desire to resist this night. I want to give up to the pulverazing sea shores, pouring gaze of rain, the opaque fog of cloud, the unclustered grains of sand and the sluggish muddy, shadow of life.

I sit down my window, my cigaratte glows in the dark, the blown emburs of ashes try to cover the mesh of pretention on my face. He wanted to walk down the aisle, a black suit and see her so pretty in a white gown.

Ohh !! I am sorry, I just forgot how to dream, coz the debris still lingers.

How long is this night or How much in the night is his life left ?? 
Not so much.