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Shradha Sagar Jan 2020
You just sit there, together, share little nothings, and suddenly in the very next moment, a whole lot changes. You just sit still, absorbing everything they say, the honesty, the ferocity in their conviction, forces you to believe in every spoken word and sentence that draws you down the rabbit hole.

The thin line between knowing someone and thinking you know them enough just blurs away.

Have you ever felt a mystic human emotion? I surely have! There is always that diffidence that lurks somewhere deep within, it keeps you from looking straight into their eyes, the transparency- it surely kills. To be able to listen to them without holding any emotion, to hold nothing for them, no expectations, no reasons, no questions. It feels like an archive, where you can stow away all your thoughts and wonder about the uninhibited, free familiarities you share.

Crazy, I know, that is how everything sounds and just builds an atmospheres in that instance!

Everyone I have ever met has a story to share. But in the art of urban loneliness it never passes through you. You somehow just try and defend it by equating the situation and chaos of thoughts coursing through your nerves. There is an inexplicable rage and a need to turn things and construct the worst possible scenario in front of your eyes. Where and when these conversations occur they are too hard to take. I never feel the urge to listen to their side of the story, mostly. I just want to avoid any human contact and pretend that I am lost in my own dominion doing my own thing.
This may come from the fear of giving them admittance to my realm, or to come across like a bare human trying to deduce and find meaning in their stories, their hardships and struggles that make mine absolutely mundane and lacklustre.  But once in a while, you feel that feeling of the known. There strikes a conversation so hard not focus on, it’s different, where from once you actually listen. They play the good one, riding you in the palm of their hand and all you can do is see them.

There have been thousands of answers to why or how we feel what we do. May be it is an advanced form of attraction or infatuation, where your mind visualises things and you feel connected in terms of your expectations or experiences you share. Or maybe, your soul has connected to someone from another point in time, from another dimensions or say a parallel universe? (Queue some sci-fi music here!)

Another reason, your views and theirs match, your likings match, or maybe you unknowingly just share similar personalities. It gives meaning, it makes you feel like ‘you exist’. We always seek for more connections, more validations whilst looking to complete ourselves, and wait agonisingly for when our thoughts will be transformed to words that someone understands, comprehends and most importantly relates with.

Insecure and unappreciated, everything seems so overrated while you are ensconced in your cocoon till you find that connection and the minute they speak to you it all disappears. This is how I feel in the moment, trying to re-collect all the words, before I forget them in this fast-moving world. And If I ever want to talk about it, laugh on it or even cry about it, I hope I can still reach them, smile and look at the unchanged sheen in the eyes and feel content and hang on to the stories that they have gathered over time.

Till then, good bye, adios to the stories of the time when we were just strangers!
Shradha Sagar Jan 2020
I find myself looking for you around in other people,
When I walk past that door, Or, through the places unknown,
I see two people exchanging a glance, or kissing good-byes,
And I think of you a little more, and look at myself with a sigh!

I find you in places I thought I could be alone.
Moments that I thought brought me peace,
movies that I saw to clear my head,
All of these now only causes me distress.

But this is the ***** truth of life,
We'll be together forever was just a lie.
I know I'm broken badly,
It's all gonna be okay,
Gradually it is all going to be fine.

You left me in shock by not giving me any time,
I still can listen to your voice in my head,
And the smell of your skin makes me feel sad,
Future you showed to me, it all feels like a dream,
The only thing being it’s her in it now, and not me.

I keep telling myself these days,
Just give yourself some time,
Sit back, relax and sip the juice of the lime.
I too shall find the peace in my life,
The one that I can perfectly call mine,
But for now, I guess I need to move on,
Why cry for someone who's already gone.
Shradha Sagar Jan 2020
I am sitting at the window seat,
On my way back home,
I just hung up the phone,
Saying I’ve got nothing to talk to you anymore.

Every time I look out of the window,
I see the moments we have shared,
Remember how you held me tight,
right in front of that brown building.

Remember when holding hands was fun,
when we were just too drunk,
And that kiss on the cheek,
Because we were too shy to say things.

Wait a minute, am I dreaming, my eyes are wide open,
Still thinking about the moments in which I had you in them,
Is it all a lie, should I regret it?
Falling in love with someone
who is so close to me and yet so far?

I am walking on my way now,
I still am looking at my phone,
Maybe I should call you and tell you,
that this is how I feel about you?

What should I say?
I am happy that you are back with her,
you better hide what is in your heart,
and tell her everything is fine,

I am not going to bother now (yeah, I know, that’s a lie)
Almost called you, tried to text you,
To tell you how I still feel about you,
That I still remember the touch of your skin,
the smell of your perfume and the cigarette,        
I can hear your voice in my head,
Everything that has transpired like flashback stories right there,
Back to Back…

I know I should be just friends with you,
and at least have you as a part of my life.
And I know I should just shut my thoughts,
and not explain anything at all,
But I still want you,
Maybe I thought you should just know,


Do you ever think of me,
while walking through the door,
or, maybe holding hands with someone,
or leaning in while sharing that drink at the bar?
Do you or do you not miss it?


Oh, because I still remember the 3 AM talks,
the warmth of your body, the moments we shared
I can hear your voice in my head,
everything we had played like stories,
Back to Back…

— The End —