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The Lost Lover


A century had elapsed between her two sentences. Eons of pain and inducement of sorrow ; of demise of an edifice of emotions and of new acclimatization to absence. Even though it has been years now, like unheralded summer storms on the coast, I saw, a fleet of gloomy clouds pass over her. It all rushed to grab her. As if for a jiffy, she could again feel her nerves severed, throbbing and oozing scarlet in that hospital corridor amidst shrieks of agony. For that moment, it seemed so near that I could see her pupils dilated (or was it tears?) and she was almost craving for death. Time had flown past like wild air as she had striven to let that burning sensation sink deeper into her flesh and scar her for life. A moment. Only one of so many years. Like the bloody remnants of her last letter of love. One that never reached her lover. The last hope she held on to. The holy water on her lips before she drifted away.

-"I had a lover"

- "He is gone"

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