If in a fantasy we were to survive, the colors of the clouds would’ve been different. Tears would’ve been of joy. Cities would’ve been crowded. If in a fantasy, we were to live.
Love ,a fantasy, indeed a lie, why do we still need it? A fabrication to overcome our fear of loneliness. Cheated by words and healed by the same words again and again till we reach the point of denial.
Vows, broken words, in fact the face of our invention. Written all over us till the day we find another path to bleed on.
Every day we die in silence, covering the parts that we left incomplete. A four letter word “hope”, as a reminder for waiting for that one last closure to decease the memories of what we called a part of our lives. No matter how many chains we break, they remain eternal.
Just to breath we create a mnemonic to save us from extinction and what we were and what we are in the memories that we hold.
After several trials in my court of mind, yesterday wasn’t the day I forget you. Today had nothing different than yesterday. And tomorrow isn’t the day I forgive you.