Buried diary

It was a long time since I had sat on the rooftop of my bourgeoise condo, located aloof from the city. As a loner, that was the location I preferred! The rooftop held memories…those memories that I was scared to revisit. Those memories that were buried in my deep hearts core, and a little kindling could set them ablaze! I was good enough at not bringing them up! Once I did, nothing could put back the pieces together in place! Sitting on the rooftop, I could see the hazy images far at the horizon, the fading outlines of mountains and the orange tint of the sun that was already set, spread its arms across the vista. 

“We could not be much luckier than this” he used to say while eying the beautiful sight. And I in great admiration would look into his eyes.  

“Probably, I couldn’t be more luckier than this.”  I introspected. 

I wish I had given a verbal shape to my introspections, my feelings. Maybe that could make him stay longer!  That’s what I thought once I read an article on how if someone is aware of the fact of his/ her being important to someone, adds years to his/ her life. 

Now since I kindled the old flames, (I thought I could never survive) I rather found comfort, a comfort that no ones sympathies could give! I was happy to run into the arms of my darkest patch of life, and nothing was more comforting.

” how beautiful it is to squander oneself in someone’s love! He couldn’t be much luckier in love! And I would be luckier if I could let him know that.” I said to myself.