The smog blinds me obstructing my vision.
Yet, I gaze at the sky,
I see it in pain.
It speaks of no promise, it has got a dampened soul.
I look for it's reflections,
The lone writer struggles over his typewriter,
His cigarettes reduce his hopes into ashes.
And the air captures his whispers,
"How do I let her go?", he scribbles for the third time.
The creased bedsheets by his window speaks of her lingering presence.
He smells her in each inch of his skin,
Yet, why does the city not leave him at ease!
He looks at the lanes, devoid of hope
He lights another smoke, pulls in puff of despair
He was rotting in that city which had lost it's soul.
I pull my hair together and hum a tune,
I think and I rethink until my thought overpowers.
I stand on the lanes leading to his home,
I look at him parched by his window.
And I free him from his past afflictions,
I free him from her lingering smell,
I free him from his tormented thoughts,
For I, I carry the soul of the city.
Do you see me?
"My love is enough for both of us", she often felt those words ring in her heart. She finally had understood that life wouldn't always follow her designs. That people are meant to leave but their memories won't. She often had wondered how someone could love her to such an extent when that person had always known that she wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. How could a person stand by her when she always acted as a fleeting shadow. She never had given hope for she knew the pain of dejection but he kept hoping like a hopeless vagabond. How she wished that he would some day hate her enough to let go. She devised ways to free him from this web, she acted cold, turned indifferent, did everything he detested and she finally saw some changes. It was a relief, he finally seemed to take hold of his life. She could see him grow responsible. He finally it seemed was learning to love himself. Phone calls died, meetings subsided, they become known strangers. All this while ...
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