Sometimes, the page of my story feel tainted with unfinished ends. Those are the moments when I start wondering about the stories which make us & the stories that we are. I wonder, if stories with a last sentence are better than stories which never begun. The intensity of this thought magnifies when I think about how things happened between us. Like pages with no numbers, no foreseen plot & an unknown idea of existence. The author must have known us well, maybe thats why we fell on same page, bound to know each other through coincidence. Now our story, as far as weve known or walked through, it has had its share of bliss. We have had days which ended just because they should & days which survived back in the flaps of our flying heart. What makes me a little sad though, is that like every story ends; we will have our lanes too. They might be elating or saddening, but they would never match the last time we met. Our story should know, just before it figures out its last lines that the last time we met, was not the last time we met. Because there is no happy or sad endings in love. Love never ends.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Nov 2014 18:30:08 +0000
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