Ruins of Reminiscence

 

Ruins of Reminiscence 

Intricately heavy, and weary,

When the wound is deep-rooted, boiled, and scratched, 

And toiled and baffled... until swollen. 

Yet the strings of the heart tune in, the same euphony it has been. 

Yet my skin crawls within, with the lofty nostalgia jolting in -

The majestic feeling of love melted in innocence, 

The sense of sinking in madness, 

Adrift from everything humane, everything sane - 

The pristine sense of first love! 

Falling for the little things, falling for the eyes,

An innocent celebration of love. 

For some, it scars, it hits too deep leaving an eternal impact,

Reaches a layer to haunt ahead.

What about the heart wounded sore, not once,

Not twice, for years afore?

What about the cracks too distinct to heal? 

A heap of ruins lying within -

It pains to breathe, it pains to writhe.

With each drop of tear falls a memory... 

Aren't memories a river of blood? 

Entwined with us, keeps flowing, keeping us deadly alive. 

When you look at the empty sky, 

The wind is silent, paths covered in uncanny,

The chair next to you is cold, 

It's time to say goodbye.

Riddhi Chakraborty