Questions I mayn’t ask you!
Did your time fly? Did it heal?
Did another bud bloom in your garden later at dusk?
Did another soul caress your stubble and lock that gentle smile in her eyes?
Did every mole of yours tell you stories, like mine did?
Did I become a distant memory that spoiled your days?
Did you yen to unburden your uncontrollable tears on to my bosom, back again?
Did you wish to snuggle up to my neck on those hazy dawns?
Was I the love that you embraced in your juvenility?
Was I merely a passing cloud that retained a soft corner?
Did I become the past that you abhorred to reminiscence?
Did you play the silly pranks we created ever again?
Did your vivacious laughter find its right destination later sometime?
Will I be worthy of a mention in your book about love?
Will you say, ours was everything that love could be?
Will you sing the symphony of our bond on my grave?
Will you stroke my hair once before fire engulfs the me that was always yours?
Time didn’t heal. The sun didn’t rise.
Never again for me.
Questions I’m dying to ask you!
Did your time fly? Did it heal?
Did another bud bloom in your garden later at dusk?
Did another soul caress your stubble and lock that gentle smile in her eyes?
Did every mole of yours tell you stories, like mine did?
Did I become a distant memory that spoiled your days?
Did you yen to unburden your uncontrollable tears on to my bosom, back again?
Did you wish to snuggle up to my neck on those hazy dawns?
Was I the love that you embraced in your juvenility?
Was I merely a passing cloud that retained a soft corner?
Did I become the past that you abhorred to reminiscence?
Did you play the silly pranks we created ever again?
Did your vivacious laughter find its right destination later sometime?
Will I be worthy of a mention in your book about love?
Will you say, ours was everything that love could be?
Will you sing the symphony of our bond on my grave?
Will you stroke my hair once before fire engulfs the me that was always yours?
Time didn’t heal. The sun didn’t rise.
Never again for me.
Questions I’m dying to ask you!
This piece was written by one of my very good friends. She can describe any emotion so beautifully, there are times I wish I can write like her. This was a piece written in extreme pain. Why is it that best pieces of art come out when people are in pain?
8 comments:
Thats a gud one...
Brilliant Piece! Yes your friend is very aware of her emotions!
yes. the roses always come with the thorns.
@catch22
Yeah...I too agree that best pieces of writing comes when in pain, yet the reason remains a mystery to me too.
will u guys just put all this behind and get married?:)
@ Anonymous : What was that ?!!!
lol i cudnt resist the voice of my higher intuition:)...dont u think 'they' shud.....i mean the writer and writee?
and y r u not writing?
Well well I jus came to know who u are anyway hardly makes a difference. You sound like a Paulo Coehlo when you talk abt higher intuition. Anyway I don have an opinion whether they should get married or not why shud I even think abt it. Been quite busy with work hence have not been writing.And congrats on ur exam results. :)
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