Life goes on or so it seems
While her mind is full of him and his memories
Who knows
If it’s she who’s caught in their cage or them in her’s
Her eyes may never give away what she truly feels
But sometimes in the cold hours of quietude
She lets it trickle, the old distress
Her soul whispers a silent prayer
That he’d remember her in the littlest of things he encounters everyday
The droplets of her bleeding heart may be wiped away
The wound may slowly heal
His face in her mind, sketched and erased
Since time immemorial
What will never cease to exist through this ordeal
Is the little voice inside her appeal
“I wish you’d come back soon
At least before spring bloom”
Priyadarshika I 