If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates.
I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive.
Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.
I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive.
Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.
This is so beautifully written.. Such is longing for love ones..
ReplyDeleteThanks A. Hope you are doing well. Take care.
Deletethis so beautifully written and so profound! i loved it esp. the last few lines :)
ReplyDeleteThanks A.
DeleteSometimes they dont think of us...
ReplyDeleteShatter shatter, sob sob :)
Deletehaha :)
DeleteI feel that the memory lanes are not forgotten...they are painfully hidden..yet lived when alone.
ReplyDeletebrutal!
Brutal... Sums it up Red. Thank you for the visit.
DeleteOld relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.
ReplyDeleteHow true...........