Closed eyes,hands out of the window feeling the ochre rays of the sun and the push of the cold breeze against my hand, dancing through my fingers. I still carry your thoughts inside my head, like a faded trail of perfume left when a person exits a room. I open my eyes,pushing the thought away, only to gaze at the vastness of the place, huge ranges hiding behind the grey fog, fading far into the distance from dark blues and dark greys to white. I breathe it in, inhale, exhale. And as the sun went down,my ecstatic heart was beating fearlessly in calm, its not the same anymore, and it will never be.Oh yes, we lit like an onyx,with million layers of shadowed emotions sealed with white lies and black inks over written things. You are archived in my memory carefully kept with adoration and prolonged gazing with appreciation and acceptance, with thankful smiles and tad tinge of love still in the lenses of my eyes.
In the most truest sense, fresh has just started, the archived good is shelved and extracted bad is trashed. A lot of things are out and gone, I think this is what growing is, it means growing out of things and growing into things.

Published by Aakriti Singh