Awaited October... Poem by Randhir kaur

And today I read your excerpt. I could not hold myself writing this to you that I miss you so much. I read your every word of glory and pain over and over again to find myself some where in the words of blue. No matter how hard we try to pretend but this overflow of emotions allow us to eject the sadness from skin to bone.
Everytime when I am low, I read your letters to make myself normal to act but this terrorist life took your letters away from me and I could not find it again, I tried hard to look you in every hole which smells like you, Alas I failed. I weeped in the memory of our love.I weeped in the memory of you. I called out your name several times and the voice echoed in the sky leaving me faded in the oblivion like after the death.
Now I wonder how to take ride with my dry heart which seems so sound when asked, 'Howdoing'? Maybe I would listen to your voice thrice a day and cry on your every dedication towards me which is still evergreen like your name I scribbled at the back of my dairy. I know that you hurt yourself by walking barefoot on the terrace with iron nails tickling your fingers and sitting under the sun for hours till it burns your skin. I know that you smoke and intoxicate your veins. I know that you no more visit your favourite places where I and you had spent hours of the day talking about how love gave us wings to fly.
I know every bit of you.And I even know if you read this you would die a little more from inside being peculiar for another one week trying hard to flush my memory again. But my darling, you and I know the truth of our togetherness which won't ever leave till we cease. I still find myself standing in the ocean when somebody asks me if, 'I ever loved somebody truly' or 'Did anybody ever loved you with his heart in the hand'?
This is not a realization.This is still my first 'Hii' to your 'Hey', letting you know that you are completely in me, I saved you in my gallery and now my heart sings a song of your name.
I miss the vibe of October every year willing to find you in the temple where I caught your sight, wishing to meet you again in the hymns of Devi, but that doesn't happen. I satisfy myself with the excitement that 'October will be back again without you'. It cuts me deep but the only thing that I have today of you is the attendance of this month every year.