Art Directory India


I took a left to avoid the clamorous road. The cold wind pierced through my skin as I turned back to check if anyone had been following me. The lane was empty and dark, the only thing I could hear was the snow crunching underneath my feet and my heavy breathing. I kept running till I approached my apartment hoping no one had seen me. I delved in my back pocket to search for the things I got from that man. The man whom I loved so much for so little my whole life. Approaching my pocket wasn’t easy for I had lost the will to give him another chance, it was as if my hands repelled from being betrayed this time, probably one last time. It was difficult, but I gathered all my courage and reached for the piece of paper in my back pocket. I never thought of a piece of paper holding such importance in my life. My fingers trembled as I opened that piece of paper. I read the first words, “Hey love”, my knees felt weak and and my heart burdened as if it was tied with a huge rock, a rock of promises we made on the summer nights, promises we broke on the autumn days and the promises we never got to make. I felt a sudden urge to sit down on the cold slippery pavement. An urge that I couldn’t resist. So, here I am, sitting on this cold pavement with your letter in my hand.
I couldn’t help myself into reading your letter any further. So, I thought of looking at the house next door, wonder if anyone ever lived there or the lights were left on just to make sure that no one escaped the thought of life existing in such a lifeless place. All I could see was an empty flower pot on the balcony railing and an inaudible wind chime, how cruel can life really be right?
I saw a couple walking down the street, hand in hand, lost in their own world… remember that day you told me how happy you felt walking from the Country park to the Reed estates? Just looking at the gardens around would’ve been such a pleasure right? Wish I could walk with you a little longer, live the life you lived, breathe the air that you’re breathing, do you wish the same?
There’s your letter, rolled in a ball and thrown in this gutter, floating away to a destination not known to many but I know that very destination, the scars on my hands act as the map to that destination, they know how difficult and painful it was to trace the whereabouts of a place they wish to never visit again.
All I have for now is this cold pavement, this flowing gutter, this dirty snow, this broken heart, this cold winter night, the scars you gave me on a rather unloving night and my loving arms. what can one even ask for?
I don’t want to go home, for I found solace, here on this gutter lane, on this cold pavement, in my own arms.
Thank you for everything, for I don’t love you anymore.

Please follow and like us:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *