I thought my hands will never give the chance of writing you this letter but I wrote,maybe for the last time.
And again I felt the same Shiver,the same coldness in my feet,but I wrote. Sharing is fine but writing a letter with bare hands is more peaceful.
Do you remember, whatever I see and feel with my own senses I tried to pass the same feel to you because why you know,you have become an organ to my respiratory system.
To see flowery in everything is common but I felt the paradise in you as well the hell. Paradise in building a small hut near two fruit bearing trees and hell with the thought of losing you.
Yes,I felt the void before I see the flowers all around.
'Drifting apart',it is of two words but its connotation is as huge as the universe.The taste of it is strange and maybe beyond my words.
As the time itself says that I died for my beloved a long years back,I considered myself to be the wretched soul for the first time.
And see I am standing here with my bare hands with a pen longing to write another letter of mine with same teary eyes.
Here I am leaving you my bleeding and wounded heart not to recognise but to reassure you that "I was there before and will be in future near you" but you will never find me because I will be no other than a shadow praying for you again for your next birth.
© Priyam