An Incomplete Wish

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To the girl who hates her birthdays
From the boy who …………………….

Of all the tragedies losing a loved one must be the worst. Quite contradictory such a parting is. While one person gets hungover an extended grief, the other gets hungover an extended peace. Eventually we all come to peace; just the parted seem to get their faster. If dead ones go on to become stars, then he smiles down upon you from up there; on your birthday the widest beckoning to gain strength from his memory. To the person who defined love for you, grief should be the last offering. He would smile at a heart made of candles I am sure, lit up bright matching his brothers up there.

Of all things said and done, I might be just grazing at the boundaries. For you are at a plane that I can’t comprehend; drifting away each time I pass it. The expanse I am not able to gauge for I am blinded by my own. The gorges that are your scars are visible but with origins hidden. The rapids topsy-turvy like your memories, too fast to follow. The cold deserts give me the creeps as your fears. If the experiences wire up a person; then you may be wired just right. For the expanse I am not able to gauge for I am blinded by self.

This piece is best left here. For I don’t possess the tools to make it whole. Lost in translation, here’s a cheers to an incomplete wish.

To the girl who hates her birthdays
From the boy who …………………….

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