Delectable Dee
 
There are always these constant impression upon me that drives me to stay but let go. It is sanity-possessing and confounding, driving me to extreme lengths of desperation where shame is eclipsed by the constant need for something remembered yet undefined.

Perhaps, it is the sheer vanity of my now forgotten once-upon-forever-dream that shackles me to passionately bleed for you. And every time you ignore me, leaving me stranded on a shore-less sea, floating pointlessly to waters unwelcoming and unknown, I consumes myself with fury that intensely clashes with all my bridled frustrations and unrequited miseries.

And I hate you more. More that I possibly thought I would. And I burn more with the fuel of all the injustice of countless sleepless nights spent in the travail of furious questions that were rendered feeble and stale. Insignificant beyond the volume of lovers' grace.

Such an obscene atrocity to play a deaf ear to the fanatical echos of memories that were deprived of their due curtain calls.

I have written so many words that were better off silenced by the recklessness of my lips. I should have known better. I regret them with as much passion as I hate then aching helplessness i feel about you. i wish for time to shift back to then blissful years of innocence.

You alone can render me so willingly bare.


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