You wanted me to be a faded ink stain in those worn out pages of ruffled memory,
I was not born to be a blot, I was born to weave magic.
You chose to cross a desert thinking we wouldn't cross paths
But look, I can still blow through your skin in a heartbeat.
Time, you thought would wipe my memory
But your heart knows not what it is like to forget,
I am a blister to your wound,
A lingering smell clinging by your skin.
I feed on your soul, I tread on your dreams.
I can cross mountains, swim through oceans
And yet not be seen!
Moonlight streams through my hair, the ocean feels my heartbeats
I walk through sand ribs, soft,yet enough to disrupt your existence.
The empty shells by the rocks would hum you my story
Come someday leaving the world behind, would you?
The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...
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