eventually, everything came down to this..

surviving nights in anticipation of a call that never came..

while the clock ticks reminded how the same hand that once shed blood for you, now spills ink to recreate our memories and pen down your midnight secrets..

yet, neither the scent of burning lamp-oil nor an overdose of caffeine could bring out words to delineate your magic..

even though our universe had innumerable bruises, and our world unhurriedly caved in... but believe me, our chaos brewed love was art itself..

-animesh