Tuesday, February 26, 2013


Time was ticking, moments rushing. Yet, every moment seemed so less, so incomplete. Time refused to halt. The bomb refused to blow up. The moon shone in all glory. The hustle and bustle of an emotionless crowd surrounded us. Tears held back. The past hour raced by my mind. That proximity, that scent up my nostrils, that touch, that conversation. Piles of regrets, many irreversible truths. One big lie holding on to the remnants of the past.

I wish the bomb had blown up. Not one in this lifetime, at least united in death, with no barriers to deal with. Notorious faces passing by, adorning icy gazes that kept shifting away. Every time, my eyes met his, discarded dreams stared back at me. And however much my conscience urged me to tighten the fist, to stop letting the sand fall off, I could do nothing, but stare back.

I wish the bomb had blasted. Right where I stood holding his hand. No one knew what was playing in my mind. Not even me. We both knew, it was the last time. What no one was aware of was that a little explosion had happened. The walls that I had created stood burnt down. An explosion created out of a flame that was never put out. It was always burning in that little corner. Carefully shielded so that it's rays stayed intact. Hidden away from worldly eyes. A sacred flame of true love, now forbidden.

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