Prakton

After all those silent prayers,

I met my former love.

Not many are granted the fortune to meet their ex with such grace,

but I count myself among the lucky few.

Her enchanting eyes and those soft, delicate feet—

I adored them once, perhaps still do.

I used to gently place my hand on her forehead, under countless excuses.

Today, I couldn't.

I couldn’t even feel those duckling-soft feet I once admired so much.

The once wild, wave-like girl now seemed as calm as a still lake—

cold, quiet, and still,

like stone—void of blame or complaint.

I saw, up close, what once was love, now wrapped in silence.

A thousand times I asked,

"Are you doing well?"

Never received a real answer.

Perhaps she buried it deep inside.

I never imagined our eyes would meet again.

When I tried, with all my courage, to hold her gaze,

it felt like she couldn't.

She looked away—perhaps lost in the weight of everything left behind.

One thing was clear—she had changed.

Marriage, children, and routine had tamed her untamed spirit.

My once lively, impulsive lover had become a quiet homemaker.

The fashion icon now traded style for comfort.

She forgot, perhaps, how I’d never seen her left wrist without a watch.

They say love fades like salt dissolves,

like sunlight slipping from an afternoon sky.

But mine?

Mine still shines—

like a fresh sunrise in the eastern sky,

like the first time I fell for her.

What a stubborn, immortal love I carry.

Even now, it lingers in my eyes, my voice, my smile.

A love that refuses to end.

And the more I try to forget her,

the deeper I find myself loving her still.

An endless, eternal love.