Nineteenth.

     She found the dried rose in her eight standard history textbook. History was never a dry subject and roses never really symbolised love of any kind for her, but they were just kids back then. Kids, so much in love. Since then, there had been multiple lifes lived, for she had learnt that no two worlds existed simultaneously. You have to constantly choose. She learnt to adjust and accomodate a huge world- when her dad transferred and shifted, when school got over the second and the last time, when medical school started. Phew, huge part of life has been lived it seems, like almost twenty years done right.
     The rose had yellowed to the lowest petal hanging by it. Having loved and lost many times ever since, probably the rose was kept so that he would stir her memory even years later. It brought only a smile onto her lips, he is in some other part of the country now, living his dream, she thought. She was serious with yet someone else a while back, but it had all ended the way she never had thought it will. She never had thought it will end, actually. But the thorns were almost the same brown when she had kept it;  according to what she remembered.  The good things leave our minds and go away in our process of moving on, but the bad things, they stay there always. Teaching you all that shouldn't be done. Because maybe not doing the wrong has become even more important than doing the right. The world looks into how you shouldn't be, always. She was happy with the way she was. People around her loved her, and she loved herself too. She wondered whether she would have been the same, if she wouldn't have broken or been broken all these many times. Every reconstruction needs a destruction. Theres a reason for why things happen. Its impossible for the river to change its course on its own. Bigger rivers require earthquakes for doing what obstructions could do for smaller rivers. There is a creation hidden in every calamity that befalls. Destroying us is life's way of helping us better itself. There cannot be a new unless the old is wiped clean. Perhaps she'll continue keeping the dried rose in there. It won't hurt ;)

Eighteenth.

     The night falls in, and the sky steals the show. The quiet all around beautifies its eeriness. The darkest things are also the most beautiful always, in which you can empty your heart into; no one dares to explore. They remain there, untouched. You can think of any innumerable whys and ifs about such things, because somewhere you know that these are the times when questions don't matter at all. They just allow you the freedom of imagining choices you wouldn't have otherwise made.
     The lights go off one by one, you know they always will. But you still trust them with all your life. You let yourself break. And then, somehow, as time passes by, you realize there are more stars in the sky than all those lights that studded the city's skyline. It was all about the brightness, and so be it. Right ways always exist, you just need to let go when the time is right. If love is about being happy, then that is what you should get. Love, or no love. Theres' no place for things that don't work the right way. The lights stay till it is 'night' ; but it is the stars that will stay right there even during the day,and shine when it gets dark.

Seventeenth.

     It was a windy day, not according to the weather forecast department, but she had sensed the chill that morning, the one which only cold winds from a far off place could blow into the city. There was always something about things that have felt distant before they happen. They are predictable, and yet unmanageable. They sweep you unexpectedly into rains, but they eventually bribe you with a rainbow. She tried to gauge the weight of her backpack, though the last time she checked there was a small hole in it,she was glad her umbrella was somewhere in. ' I' m prepared for everything', she thought. She was walking towards the bridge, she knew it would be a perfect picture to take when the sun is midway through the sky. As always, it was going to be a long wait.
     It is supposed to grow brighter as afternoon approaches; but things seldom go your way. And the pain goes away only after you have well accepted that it will. But the problem is you never accept it will before it has gone. The clouds were fast crossing over to her side of the sky. But she now knew she had all that was needed. He had walked in her life and seemed to be made of every bits and pieces she had seperately, and secretly designed in her dreams. Such people are not meant to be lost. They will be in the tones of your life, in the tunes of your voice. They will become your umbrella against every heat. Against every rain and the shattering wind. Just as it began pouring,she looked up at the hole on the black strip. The sky, with the dark clouds, was black too, and it almost melted in. Though there is nothing like perfection, she realised that it was all about the faults being in right places. Where they disappeared into the greater picture. It is about their not mattering. And even with the hole there, the rest of her umbrella's fabric was something that didn't compromise. Something that she couldn't throw away. It would be always there for her. Against every heat. Against every rain and the shattering wind.

Sixteenth

You shine like the sunshine bright, 

But the summer is already here;

You touch me like the cool wind so light;

But it already was an icy cold night.

 

You walk back in when its no more in me,

I have left those memories to stay alone;

They'll get tired of all the waiting,

It won't be long before they'll be gone.

You were a warm spring that went its own way,

With each passing autumn I have lesser to say;

I won't be able to tear off your page away,

But I'll have a new story..some another day.

Fifteenth

It stays right there always,
To make you stare into your past,
It is one thing that never will change,
It takes up your thoughts fierce and fast.
You paint this world in the colours of your choice,
And leave me stranded in a place so familiar,
'Cause this is how love had always sounded,
 It had felt so strong just before it had ended.
Need to be steady before I melt in your directions,
Before I realize the truth in your confessions.

Fourteenth

I tell you to walk me till the road seems right,
But you follow me into my dreams tonight.
You feel like a promise I may never know,
Like the one that light owes the shadow.
You talk about the prom that's been on my mind,
And I think of leaving all my past behind.
The stars come out for a studded evening,
I look at my feet, 'cause my thoughts start flying.
You tell me to let my hair down,
They'll go well you say with my gown.
That is when our eyes actually meet,
You begin this song,
 And I am already complete.        

Thirteenth

     She clenched the stethoscope tighter in her hands. It was supposed to be the last patient for this shift. An hospital O.P.D. can be the most tiring place on earth. When she asked what brought him here, "Cold and slight fever," he said. Just cold. And slight fever. Paracetamol, amox, and maybe a couple of painkillers; and then she'll be done today , she thought. But her mind was wondering somewhere else. The way he had promised she would never be able to lose him even if she wanted to, she had thought it was true. There was something about him that made her think about a forever together. But no one knows how short some forevers can turn out to be. She inquired for any relevant negative history; of course she wasn't expecting anything substantial out of it. She never expected much. Ever.
     She told him sit straight, told him to take deep breaths. She could hear the air move in and out of his lungs. It was his recently updated picture that made him cross her mind. He was looking even more better since the last time they had met. But it was no reason. She had not left him because he didn't look good enough. Vesicular, normal, as expected, the patients' lungs sounded. She was thinking of seeing someone else. Someone else who had already swept her feet off the ground. But he was so much good at convincing everyone everytime he tried, it was even more difficult to get him right. Everytime she looked into his eyes, she drew a complete blank. Complicated to understand, he was a paradox of life itself.
     She realised she was searching for the patient's heartbeat, since a tad bit longer than usual. Even a tiny impulse would have sufficed. But she could find none. People lie when they say their trust is lost, she thought. And it struck her like lightning, she placed the stethoscope on the left, same distance from his sternum. She heard his heart lubb-dubb in peace. She had got it. Dextrocardia. She couldn't remember the exact numbers, she didn't know how many people among millions were born this way. But she knew now for sure, trust is just misplaced. But things work just fine even if u don't understand them. His heart had lied on the wrong side, since years. But there were no complaints, just cold. And fever..