Fare you well :)
I have seen dust, autumn fall, spring set, disappearing of stars from the sky of Kolkata, I have let go of broken toys, rusted bicycles, torn letters, old teddy bears and half written diaries.
None felt like you, none.
I don't know where you were before we met, how much longer would you stay with all of me who always irritates you being an emotional fool and with her useless state of existence.
Because forever is cliché. And always is never.
Do you know I have a fascination for woods? The woods which welcome me everytime unfailingly, with a tree house, a burrow and a muffler in it? I keep walking there. I walk and I meet people, people I knew long ago, people I know now, people I never knew. They can't see or hear me. Yet I talk to them, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes consciously because resistance goes away from my mind. Sometimes on the roads, the unkept promises, the dedicated songs and the words of poems scatter along. They interrupt my tired journey, ask me to stay to them, make me sit on a pie(a)ce of rock, calm me down and walk away.
At the end of each walk, the roads again take me back to the tree house, and the burrow. I don't know how a home feels like, because I never had one. When I read Harry Potter, like every other reader, I wanted myself to be a wizard and go to Hogwarts, because anywhere is better than here. My friend says my Hogwarts is the woods, the tree house, the burrow, the muffler and you.
I have seen dust, autumn fall, spring set, disappearing of stars from the sky of Kolkata, I have let go of broken toys, rusted bicycles, torn letters, old teddy bears and half written diaries.
None felt like you, none.
I don't know where you were before we met, how much longer would you stay with all of me who always irritates you being an emotional fool and with her useless state of existence.
Because forever is cliché. And always is never.
Do you know I have a fascination for woods? The woods which welcome me everytime unfailingly, with a tree house, a burrow and a muffler in it? I keep walking there. I walk and I meet people, people I knew long ago, people I know now, people I never knew. They can't see or hear me. Yet I talk to them, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes consciously because resistance goes away from my mind. Sometimes on the roads, the unkept promises, the dedicated songs and the words of poems scatter along. They interrupt my tired journey, ask me to stay to them, make me sit on a pie(a)ce of rock, calm me down and walk away.
At the end of each walk, the roads again take me back to the tree house, and the burrow. I don't know how a home feels like, because I never had one. When I read Harry Potter, like every other reader, I wanted myself to be a wizard and go to Hogwarts, because anywhere is better than here. My friend says my Hogwarts is the woods, the tree house, the burrow, the muffler and you.
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