bEtwEeN thE mIneS

It is only the dead who have seen the end of war – Plato

Agrin! Don’t accept my excuses for not being with you when it happened to you. I know how you felt when he said, “I’ve been looking for a girl like you”. I loved the way your hair moved on the air. Agrin! my dear love. There is a land where my Agrin lived and her breathe was stopped inside her world. Have anyone seen her smile? I don’t think so. But she do when she was alone. Agrin! I love you. Can you hear me? No, you can’t. I have noticed your hopeless eyes in the light of fire. Agrin! That war had taught you the power of ignorance. For me too. Agrin! You loved the unseen gold fishes, don’t you? Remember? You never believed that there is a fish in golden color. She walked between the mines, those mines had no idea about her. Her satellite relationship had a mild affection, she had two faces of expectation to accept or reject it. She always ignore things and she tried to ran  away from it. You’ve searched for something, but you ended up with nothing. And you smiled mildly. Yeah! Turtles can fly, between the dying stars, between the insisted smiles, between the seeds, between adulterated breeze and temporary deaths. You better shout, shout as much as in high tone, let the sky breakdown at your feet. Shout until you bleed, let your blood stains stay on me. Stay with your raging mood. Prints on your toes were beautifully scripted. Agrin, consider to kill me softly.

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