Silent kiss
I loved you.
I know asking you to love me back is not what love is about. With you I’ve seen what true love is all about. Forgiving you in the gravest of situations and picking up the pieces of us even when it hurts my hand. With you I’ve seen what love is not about. You neglecting my hurting hand is not love.
Dreams of us running wild in the rain, looking into your eyes with my hand in your hair, no horizon, no end…have come to an end.
There are no butterflies, no blooming flowers, no loud love confessions.
When you walked into the garden that day, I expected it to turn from night to day, but you stepped on the grass and it died, it turned to ash, you entered and the colour slowly faded as the fountain went dry. The rose wilt and withered as you walked upto me.
You touched me and I turned to dust, mixed with the wind and gone. And the beautiful plot of my oasis turned to desolate land.
Copyright © Khushi Chheda | Year Posted 2025
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