Baby it's all coming to an end. All my unfinished dreams. Illusions of what I could become but couldn't. Sometimes chose not to, out of pure lethargy. Sometimes due to ego. My ego killed me. My ego killed you. I finished everything. In this silent corner, as I lie down and breathe in only my solitude and breathe it out with an equal detachment, I make it a point to kill everything I love, just to rise to a level where I would become incapable of feeling, anymore.

Baby it's finished, the reality, the dream, the place midway between the two, where I used to sit and while away time. Now everyone bids farewell, with a smile, I can't bring myself to fake an expression on my cold face. My numb skin doesn't know warmth. I am consciously repulsed by it. I am incapable of feeling already. The air is sepulchral, for all I know. I won, but I know at a much deeper depth, that I failed, that I failed miserably at being human, at being a woman. 

Now, I am set to go, to another place unknown, that feels like an afterlife. Afterlife. Cheerful adieus, mixed smiles, tears of happyness I see everywhere. But why is that when I peek into myself I see regret. Written red and bold. A heavy sigh never leaves my lungs, always waiting escape, still it stays put. My tears never well. Baby I never cry. Never. 

After this page is turned, and a fresh sheet before me is laid, for me to spill ink on it, in huge blots, or thin strikes, but whatever it will be only me, the cold me..and that would be my afterlife. My life, the  one that prolongs till death, meanwhile has paused, it has reached a quintessential comma. The air is sepulchral, for all I know. I would miss that place, that place between reality and dreams, where I sat, time whiling away, telling myself, 'This is the first day of my life'. 


Blasphemous Aesthete said...

A phase is gone, another starts. The moon might just rise tonight, all the best with the new day and new life.
Life doesn't stop, and does not drag on either, you can't either. Perhaps, numbness is an emotion we define as cold?

Blasphemous Aesthete

................your's entirely said...

Wildflwer, I always wondered why you write of lost love things that happened to me lately make me understand now...

A reqeuest....Your blog's pages shall be my refuge for sometime. please accomodate me

wildflower said...

Blasphemous Aesthete
Numbness, now has to be an emotion. I love the idea. Thanks!

I write for lovers who have lost. Lovers who have lost, yet at a depth achieved the most meaningful of zeniths by loving in a way that is very rare, like merging themselves with the object of their desire. Be my guest!

................your's entirely said...


You express it beautifully again...

Just a thought, Those who truly love never lose anything they gain because they have loved !

Thanks :)

wildflower said...

I wish I could completely adhere to that perspective. Loving with expectations is human, unconditional love is divine.

Durgesh said...
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