Once we were Full of Life

Once we were full of life..

She looked at the old,dusty photograph of her,again,perhaps for the final time.She felt helpess as tears,like wax,fell abundantly,the grief that she felt was truly artless.Wholly unmodulated,palpable undesirable.She prayed,that the memories of her,would decay within,eventually.She wished,that her distress,would not be poignant enough to keep her eyes unclosed.Love is intensifed by absence,she learned of the repellent truth,the hard way.They say,through death,all things become clear.How true was that?Hope is vain,trust is childish,she decided.Akin to glass,she felt empty and transparent,naked and exposed.As if someone would stare into her piercing eyes,and could tell there were chinks in her faith,holes in her heart.Numbed with indifference,imperceptible emotions that transcend logical explanations beyond understanding filled the recesses of her feeble conscience.Feelings were most acute and retentive in reviving,retrieving back to life painful memories.Vertiginous falling sensations settled into her veins,limbs and brain like molten lead.She felt like a leprous dog,clinging to life.

In a conspiracy of silence,she asked herself-What isn't pain in life?