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“As I walk down the streets that remained the witness of our love, I hear several voices calling out your name. People laugh at the way I smile, they act odd when I talk and walk through the woods with you, their eyes behave insane. Two of them didn't closed the door as I followed your voice through the areca trees. I heard them discussing 'black magic'. They don't believe my insanity for you, they dont believe the love I hear in those moist leaves. Even though you are not with me, I often sit here and write our story under that tree but with no stain words on the pages . I go home with the silences. The silence of the final goodbye..” — Randhir Kaur
As I walk down the streets that remained the witness of our love, I hear several voices calling out your name.
People laugh at the way I smile, they act odd when I talk and walk through the woods with you, their eyes behave insane. Two of them didn't closed the door as I followed your voice through the areca trees.
I heard them discussing 'black magic'. They don't believe my insanity for you, they dont believe the love I hear in those moist leaves.
Even though you are not with me, I often sit here and write our story under that tree but with no stain words on the pages . I go home with the silences.
The silence of the final goodbye..