Those were the days,
When we were oh-so-close.
We each had our own ways, &
Yet it was our togetherness that rose.
Battling through the weather, &
Shining through the darkness,
We blossomed as a flower,
Sans support from any harness
Then time took over,
Chalking between us an abyss.
Syncing us now takes forever,
Something we'd rather miss.
Our individual priorities have taken precedence.
Nothing else seems more of a menace.
But why are we so separate?
Was our intimacy ever authentic?
The questions still reverberate,
As we overtire our psychic.
To ourselves we justify our acts, &
We reason beyond acceptable logic.
But nothing can hide the facts, &
No effort can bring back our frolic.
Just like that date which cannot be relived,
Just like that tear which cannot be refunded,
Just like that moment which cannot be returned,
Just like that heartbeat which cannot be rehearsed,
So our friendship cannot be rekindled,
So our telepathy cannot be resumed,
So our minds cannot be reconnected,
So our union cannot be reestablished.
Our minds continue to conceive grudges and anger,
Which often instantly erupts upon our interaction.
Our heart sink in sadness of such languor, &
Stirs us to mutually end our pointless faction.
After our endless quarrels, &
After the explosion of the debris, dirt, & dust,
We've now nullified our past laurels, &
For each other no longer lust.
Although those moments may never return,
Where we wake and sleep to each other's tune,
The memories are mentally stored in an urn, &
Will be rekindled when we feel least immune.
The eventual death of our joint oneness
Brought back the best of our individuality.
It revoked all triggers to sadness, &
Summoned us towards our preferred reality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem