I Used To (while you were here) \ a casual recount

I used to

relish in the thought that you were the gardener of my soul, for that you gave me everything I needed to indulge in comfort and solace, rewarding me with bliss.

I used to

see you as the sun ray within my heart, for that you provided me with that kind of warmth and coziness, where the flowers in the Garden of Eden that dwelled deep in me, bloomed like there was only summer.

I used to

ponder on your inherent ability to light up a fire within me, where the flames glazed through the once empty and dull fields, and then the lands boldly burnt bright – sparks that evolved into wildfire, though I felt charred, I yearned for more.

I used to

venture on this boat, drifted and carried away on this stream of memories – the times spent with you, the things you say – and I meticulously lived by these illusions, painstakingly believed that each and every moment you have left me with was for real.

But, eventually

Storms brewed, rain arrived.

the boat I sailed on was left broken right in the centre. The waters, so heavy that they crushed the hopes and wonderful emotions that it used to contain.

overwhelming raindrops diminished what was passionately heated up, the fire within the fields, the glow within my eyes, They left me in distraught.They left me speechless.

you disappeared.There was no sun, no light, a world of dimness. The signboard of “NO TRESPASSERS ALLOWED” hung right in front of the Garden because the flowers ain’t beautiful no more.

the decision of not allowing anyone seemingly insidious in, was made. No one accessed. No signs of life. No doses of sunshine.

They say you don’t get to admire

the beauty of a rainbow if there is no rain,

this statement ought to be the realest advice that humans have ever crafted.

I learnt to be the own gardener of my heart:

unlocked the gates of my Garden again,

pulled out the weeds from the burnt grounds,

welcomed more love, more visitors who truly appreciated the mess I was,

surrounded myself around people who lift my heart up, time and time again.

And you,

you are on a journey too.

And I

solemnly pray for your happiness, yet making sure you stay out,

out of the boundaries of this intricately precious land of mine.

Just to let you know,

the newest species in the Garden is named “A Barren Field of Fucks”, in the honour of your names.


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