Days seem unmoving. The weather hasn’t changed in a while. The sun looks a bit dimmer than it used to. News is shaking more than the ground was supposed to. We are left in these cage rooms, maybe for a minimum time, but who knows!
If now the sky starts to shake with trembling noises and I ran to the hall, turn on the television, and find myself panicking with no one around. Would I get to see you right up my door knocking? Getting you inside, slamming the door, wearing those old boots, would you help me tie up the laces? Noises all around the neighborhood, skyscrapers turning down to ashes, sirens all around the city, ambulances covering the view through my windows, and I grab you by your wrist and push ourselves under the dinner table which was once our favorite place for communication.
I know it’s been more than a year now, paper works were done way before that. Some of the copies got lost too, so did the feelings. But I guess the gusty storm outside dragged few copies of those feelings which brought you today under my shed. I remember how my days bled and nights fell but if this end could bring a new beginning, I won’t mind holding you tight, head over my chest, driving down the fears, yet again I ask myself now, ” If the world was ending, you would come over right?
Wordsmith: Zeeshan Ahmed
Explanation: It’s just a person talking to his consciousness about something he lost earlier before, not particularly about another person but could be anything depending on the reader’s imagining, i.e. hope, which he lost in a moment of life and is seeking it now. And few intimacies were just verbal adjectives to portray the situation simultaneously.
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