By Mayank Gupta
What is it like to lose somebody- and to lose oneself?
It is like staying in a house you have left long ago. Like having delicacies when your taste buds are long dead.
And how is it like to distance yourself from love- and from those whom you still love? It is like closing doors after the walls have fallen down. Like giving away a part of your heart, mind and soul. Not just a piece of your heart, but also the peace of your mind.
And what is it like to kill the love that is lost? It is like uprooting the plant that died just as the flowers were about to bloom. You remember the care and affection you put into it, and it weighs you down to kill all that is left of it.
And what is it like to try erasing memories- memories you look forward to in order to live? It is like killing cancerous cells by having pills that choke your respiratory system.
How do you do remember the parting moment? Do you cherish the moment you last saw your love or hate it ‘cause it was the last you saw them?
What do you do with all the pain? Do you write it as a prose or weave it into poems? If you were to pen down the poems, what will you choose to leave- ‘cause everything is a poem. There is poem in her eyes and the way they blink. There is poem in your empty palms spread wide in the monsoon wind waiting for the touch of a raindrop. For what they say stores your fate, should not have only tears in store.
Love is honestly a fiery jackpot of ecstasy and desires. You will only burn your lips kissing it.
And all that will be left of you is rough and broken, like your burnt, chapped lips. You could only wait for the time to pass until you find another broken person. Another set of memories. Another rhyming scheme. Another healing drug.
Till then you sit on the rooftop watching the white sky turning pink to purple and then to black, smiling at every site of flock of white egrets flying across the moon.
By Mayank Gupta
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