Remembered the roses

-“What’s your favourite story in our prose book?”

-“Remember the roses, by Avery Taylor.”

That story was not a part of our syllabus but the sweetness with which he uttered it’s title, aroused a “brow arching” curiosity in my mind.
I went back home, left no stones unturned to avoid an unnecessary round of questions from my parents,  headed straight towards my room and kept on flipping the pages of the book until I found the right one; I was startled to find two roses stuffed in there! I couldn’t read the story and it has remained untouched since then.

I stopped seeing him after that; I wish I had not tried to find the answers to some questions that were lingering inside my head, a demise blends “forever” with “never” in a tricky way, that makes denial more consoling as compared to acceptance and at one point we are left with no choice other than succumbing to the situation.
He left behind a memory that haunts me even after years and it grieves a lot to say, “Yes, I remembered the roses…”

The coin

In an unpleasant moment of silence,
Emotions bottled up in years,
Unable to break the confines of the rosy liars,
Twinkled in her eyes.

Goodbyes got exchanged in a handshake.
A coin was all that she could hand him over,
Parting from each other was inevitable;
The conflict between “once more” and “one last time”
Cleared up the haze in her mind.
At once, she knew what she wanted.

Did the wait of expectations end there?
No, she wasn’t allowed to expect.
The silvery souvenir knew the depth of her feelings,
Being expressionless,
It felt sorry for it’s owner.

The willingness to linger resulted in looking back often,
The trembling followers of her senses
Craved to hold on to the fading lights.
She wondered,
Does every beautiful start need to have an abrupt end?
Or maybe,
The ending is delusionary.