May these never turn to memories.
This feeling is something not to lose
But if they’re lost, if they turn to memories,
Just know that by then, I’ll be nothing but debris.
No matter how vast and deep the ocean of my mind,
In it, the sweet thoughts of you sink wide
… like light piercing the night.
I’m scared though, that it may not be vast and deep enough when we’ve had it all.
Will it be enough to swallow these relics in form of memories of our peaks and fall?
I quiver at these thoughts
I’m glad though that that’s all they are —thoughts.
I could go deep in it, just so the cut doesn’t go deeper if they come.
But may they not.
Because we know life isn’t a bed of roses
And have decided to build our bed not on quiescence…
But on roses, with its thorns and fragrantness.
So let’s forget these thoughts and live this life here alone… without dresses.
Nothing else should matter
Let whoever say whatever.