However hard I try, I cannot resist from longing that solace he bestowed upon me, when my heart crammed with worldly affairs. Perhaps, love can make you smile and cry both at the same time. But for this crooked heart, I would have succumbed to life.

There have been times I am running on fumes, simply driven by clockwork but it never suppresses  my feelings and guilts. 

So I decided to move on, dumping my feelings at the nook of our favourite restaurant, hiding my tears under my shades, swaying away to the far end of the road. Our memories enrobed my body.

Despair gripped me. The range of grey kept extending. But I had decided to move on!

Synchronising with the rhythm of life, I have been doing quite well. Too preoccupied with my teaching, learning, reading, writing and travelling. But only sometimes, I’m reminded of the tangy tangerine talks, the broken promise and the essence of afterlife. My heart starts palpitating so loud that you can hear the thud from a mile away. At that moment, all I wish is to run for my life and bring that  zenith back to its place. 

I forget my passion.

I turn inclement towards the people around me.

I remove the genetic makeup I wear to be good to everyone.

I try hard to accept the inhospitable tempest going inside me. 

But Alas! That zenith can never be earned dearly again. 

I can never whole the broken promise. 

Well, saying that, I’ve acknowledged lately that it’s because of the tempest and the thought of afterlife, I’m able to move ahead. I find solace in my palpitation. I know nobody can stop me from embracing you in our afterlife. That’s all my crooked heart reminds me with my sporadic anxiety fits. I’m thankful to that, since it is like a time machine, taking me back to the good old days. 

I do not know if anyone can relate to this, but this is how I’m grateful to my crooked heart. It comforts me by breaking the rhythm of my synchronised life. I am aware of the fact that I can never get those desirable moments back again, but, you know, even the feeling of longing and pouncing to have the touch of that breeze, is one of a kind of feeling. And that’s when I’m unable to control my heart which soaks in nostalgia.