Unfinished Conversations….

Let him be.. in a corner of your mind – the keeper of your memories.

You are scared. Scared that the memories will fade away and you will no longer remember how it felt and what he meant..and so, you revisit them – again, again and again.

And you get stuck… like in a mire – unable to move on, unable to hold on.

Why do you worry, why do you obsess, why are you scared? They are after all your memories – not his, not anybody else’s. And just like the old, jaded photos of your childhood, they may fade a little bit and dull a little bit with the passing time.. but will look more lovely and precious then, than now.

So go through them now, if you want.. one piece of memory after the next, pore your heart’s eyes, catching every small detail of the picture in your brain, then stack them all together, seal it in your secret box and store it away for a very, very long time. I know it hurts and I know it aches, but don’t you fear… for I will sit with you here and together we will get this done.

The piercing brown eyes..the unruly hair; the gait, the stride, the scars. Flashes – move like lightning inside the mind. White, Black, Stripes… The flick of the head, the blinking of the eyes, the wave of the hand.. The sound, the intonations. The glance, the stare, the look … expressions – of different moods and different times.

The different smiles – the impish one, the dirty one, the lying one, the “I-don’t-want-to-smile” one and then.. the real one.. reaching till those brown eyes, and reflecting from them. Making every scar, every line look beautiful.

The touch, the smell, the feeling inside – never felt before, never to feel again. Like a mirage, a dream… now here and then where?

The words, the moments, the unfinished conversations – once, twice, several.. fake for him and real for you. Lasting – till eternity.

Stack them all and tie it up. Wrap them up and close the box. Hide it now, in that corner of your mind. Seal the doors and padlock it. Throw the key and walk away.

And years later, when you have climbed your hills and weathered your storms; when it’s time to sit back and reminisce for long, then if you want come and take the key from me. To open the sealed doors and your little chest.

And yes, it will all still be there… like a stack of black and white photographs..tied together with an old red rubber band.

Faded and glowing of a time long past, of memories cherished, things unsaid and conversations unfinished…

 

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