36) ❥➠ There I stand with my bare hands in pant.
So much of insecurity juggling in my time bank.
The suffering partaken You will never notice.. Every unwilling smile I give.. Does that do justice?
That may be an obscure bleeding in my brain!
Something, I possess, I don't want to be added with my name: 'Scars of lonely soul tormentally pained'
Here, I wish to forget but I just pretend!
🔹Scribbled by ❥➠ @fromeverybeat : @vishakha7816 🔸Selected by ❥➠ @iamsrkay
🔹Curated by ❥➠ @bhaveshjain27
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//4:28 PM// I am sitting in this corridor,
Which is almost dead as if no life form ever crossed its ends.
Cold air move from one end to the other,
As the glass door swung open.
Suddenly, I woke up as the driver hit the breaks hard.
It was the window from the cold air escaped in.
I saw outside, and the cars were honking,
With their taillights shining bright.
I saw them, how they were so impatient to cross.
I opened the window a little more so that the warm air could be replaced.
The colour Red soon started to sting my eye-sight.
It felt so sharp that I had to cover my eyes.
I turned away from the window,
But it kept bugging in my eye.
The memory of that sharp tone of the colour was so hard,
That it made a stain.
A stain on my nerves.
The exact nerves where you existed.
And now it seems so difficult to let it all go.
The colour has taken the place next to you,
And it's like around you, and with you,
Everything seem so red that I can't see vibrance of any other colour.
The redness of those eyes, those touches, that skin and that soul of yours is what now making me,
Shred tears of Red.
I sit in the same corridor, with cold breeze crossing the ends of the long, dead arsenal.
There haven't been a single life form to cross it,
There were no traces of such.
But as the glass door swung open,
A breeze came in.
It touched me and gave the same goosebumps and elevated my heartbeat the same way your touches and your hugs doo.
Maybe those breezes where from the corridor in which you were sitting,
Or they carry you,
In that coldness.
And gosh, I weep more as I miss you more.
As I pull myself more into me,
Almost as if, hugging myself.
I keep a hand over my mouth,
So that the people passing me can't hear me.
I think about those breezes again,
I think about your touches against my skin,
And I found you in the seat next to mine.