Tuesday, January 8, 2013

The coming of an end always leaves you
with a falling heart, even the desired end
 after which you assumed all the delights
of your deprived life would rush back to you,
sweep you of your everyday-wake-up-and-read-eat-sleep
routine.You are leaving behind something of yourself,
and this isn't the first time nor do you think this will be the last,
the places you have left behind, the little rooms, the shelf of 
overflowing books,the beads spilling out of your drawer,
 tablets competing with your clock for space in your bedside table, 
the waking up, the putting to sleep, you know that with each end
 you are letting go or being let go or both, hands that were wrapped 
around you won't catch you when you fall, you get on the plane
 like you always do, and you can't help feeling empty
 because some things were getting mended, and being let off 
such misery can be overwhelming, you have always wanted
 this end, counted the days to this end,
 but with it you are losing something you don't quite know.

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