She was never mine, just my favourite illusion, and even illusion became real when she smiled…
And when the devil failed to reach me, he cursed my hand, so every thing I held, slipped way, from my illusion to my love….
Perhaps it is better to know the truth and suffer but I rather live in that illusion and enjoy those moments…
The same lips that use to praise me are now cursing me, perhaps it was not my illusion…
It’s so paradoxical that I can’t distinguish between the illusion and reality….
Once upon a time, I was just the canvas, and you decided to be the art on that piece…
There was the time when the life bloomed and the luck peaked… but it wasn’t infinite like we wish to be….
Beyond all the concept of rightfulness and wrongfulness, I meet u at the middle… and perhaps that was the beauty of that moment…
In the hindsight, if there is a field, I would like to meet you someday….