Dear lost one,
Like every other fourteen, I thought i had fallen in love, when the butterflies squirmed in my head, gut and everywhere around, the first time our eyes locked. Not much time did it take you to slither into my endless sonnets and musings. The cack handed pages of my diary sheltered you, and so did the final pages of every notebook, where I scribbled your name for a countless number of times.
The lopsided smiles and awkward greetings gushed in with the spring, when I began weaving the endless dreams. Mere fantasies that you’d never know of, ushered to a distant island of utopia, amidst the verdant meadows, where we walked amongst the opulently placid cherry blossoms ; oxymoronically, autophiles together.
Waking up to the reality was as obnoxious as the 6 am alarm, that startled me out of reverie. That fall, I saw the cherry blossoms wither off the trees. And with them withered my ethereal dreams that succumbed to its vulnerability. Someday, the bona-fide truth had to win over what was so long, trifling fragile fantasy.
An unanticipated gloom drifted into the aura with a weight on my chest that left me breathless. The pen fell off my hand and the diary took shelter in the corner of a long lost close