Last words at night

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Sometimes.
Sometimes, you cannot read your mind.
Sometimes, you don't want to read your mind.
Sometimes, you should not read your mind.

Mind.
There is this rhythm in my mind. 
Whenever happy, it tries to contain itself by remembering "the past".

The Past.
The Past?
Which I doubt if it ever was.
Is there a thing called past?
I am able to think of it but unable to visit it again.

Again.
Again and again, those conversations return but those people don't.
People don't return. They are like time and rivers, one way only.

Only.
Only if they knew the worth of a heart, they would not have dared to break so many.
Alas, hearts and feelings have no takers even though buyers being many.

Many.
Many would realise by the end of summer that spring has been left behind.
And still, they would not relish autumn. 
And will think of dying just days before of the sun entering their hemisphere.

Hemisphere.
We lived in different hemispheres.
But in the same romantic atmosphere.


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- Rashmirekha (18.01.17)