3rd post: That Evening

That evening, I tried to pretend those glances; your eyes were not actually sticking me around
Tried not to realise every single inch of your step, those light step
Beyond the air, beyond me
Leaving the silhouette, without reciting the eulogies;
Only the glances left behind,
Sticking to your trace, your eerie feeling-somehow way
We were not actually here, we were not actually exist
Why should we sing an ode to the farewell?
We looked to each other
Without saying any monosyllabic single character to spell
But here, could you believe, that I got myself along this ego, stood still put my face on these characters, puzzled my eyes?
We were stuck, or in other hand I was the one who stuck in my own

April 2015


One thought on “3rd post: That Evening

  1. Reblogged this on floatingfloaters and commented:

    Oh, how I’ve missed this one so badly. That Bronze medal looked so perfectly on you, thought I wasn’t giving any glance but I did.

    People gave their applause for their achievements, including yours.

    Neither I. My mind was filled by those thousand conversations that had become nothing in real life when I saw us.

    Regretting wasn’t a good idea.

    I stuck on my Kafka on The Shore. The face stared at me. You gave the last glance to me. Then go.

    I couldn’t even continue my read.

    August 2015


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