We keep reliving our trauma again and again until we heal. 

Every encounter teach me that each situation, each context vary. 

But, everything links me back to the same joint from where it has all begun. 

People say let bygones be bygone, 

They say to start over. 

It’s not a project to run over again after the failure. 

It’s a matter of heart and the specifics of it. 

The specificity matters because not everyone can fit in the mold. 

If you have some ideals and preconceived notions, with that bar set high you can’t move over. 

But, we have always treated others as experimental project, 

We care less what might come after. 

Hearts are not to be played with, 

Because, it’s not sensible. 

The heart will always wait for the specific. 

Pray for its arrival. 

The heart will long for the other, 

It will always want to reunite with its other half. 

Or, it will look for someone alike, 

But, the failure will burden our heart more often.

We just want it to surrender. 

Surrender to someone specific, 

Who can understand how much pain it carries, 

The weight of dismissal. 

The heart says its in pain,

Because, it could not find the other. 

The ache in the heart continues lamenting in vein – it screams for you, 

Utters your name in subliminal affairs. 

It looks for the same in each introduction,

In each encounter. 

And, fails to meet the standards. 

The heart wants to surrender, 

Surrender to its other half,

But, its too scared to be vulnerable. 

To reopen the wounds that it has mastered to hide,

The heart doesn’t know to abide by any rules, 

It keeps itself busy in ruminations.

Of good old days, 

It wants to swing in the clouds, 

If only you were there in the play ground to hold her back,

The heart wants to evolve from the pain it has suffered. 

The heart is even guilty that it has forgotten you for a while with other distractions. 

And, it will stay a criminal under the penalty section for swiping you with golden abruptions. 

Right person, wrong time, 

Right time, wrong person. 

Arrival and departure. 

If only the heart could know who would be the best healer. 

The body rejects what the heart cannot own.

Every touch is beautiful until you know the person’s personality. 

You want human connection and warmth but you are afraid of their personhood, 

What they hide back in their minds, 

And, their experiences with sensualities.

Oh, the matter of hearts must sink in ablutions! 

Disillusioned illustrations!

©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy 

TimeStamp: 5.39 pm, Tagar