Not many choices.

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It is not like you have much choice when you miss them.
Those little gestures that made you feel special than ever. The universe seemed complete when they clutched your hand in a busy street so you know they would never leave you. Among the crowd you will always have them.
The way they put roses in your hair and jasmine in your wrist, they will wilt like all things do,but the essence will live on.
Sharing coffee on the terrace at 5 p.m while the sun gently sets taking away all the worries of the day with it.
Exchange of glances at a party.
Morning kisses infused in your bloodstream like heroin in your veins.
They engulf you, break down the walls you built up high to protect yourself and become the poison with no antidote.
You find yourself wishing on that tiny star, hoping and praying.
God I wish this to last forever and if it is a dream then never let me wake up.
But,
People change and time changes.
You are made to suffer more than your poor bones can handle and suffer a pain that sets your veins blazing.
No pain killer can cure this ache, no morphine can numb it down.
Like it built up, it falls apart and slips away.
Within minutes, you find yourself on your knees trying to make sense of the broken pieces.
You try to fix something that is broken beyond repair and in the process those shards dig in deeper.
Bruise you and make you bleed.
It is then a struggle to fix yourself from there on onwards.
Put the pieces together and be yourself, again
You survive.
Learn with time to live the way it is and put on a facade
Until, night creeps up and you miss them
It is not much of a choice when you miss them when the clock strikes five, now do you?

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About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m Sheher Bano Zafar and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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