Again,
I looked into your pale eyes
and your rusted words.
I remembered, relived
the juvenile anxiety,
felt the lost ecstasy, the pain,
the loss.
And this time,
I laughed
at my mistakes.
there were no fine strokes,
only faint, broad pictures,
living in the corner of my memory.
And I know I misunderstood
so much so many times,
I mistook so many signals.
I lost so many battles.
but still I don't feel wounded.
I am not hurt.
And that is my Win.
So,
I got up and lit up a fire.
and gently put, whats left,
over this gentle pyre.
So Long!
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