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In the most baffled manner,
I woke up.
In my room, within the walls,
The temperature was as low as it could possibly be.

I wished for some warmth.
Warmth that could be there to be with you,
Warmth that would give me courage enough to face you.
I hate to admit that you are that warmth.
What if i unabashedly ask you about ‘us’.

‘Us’ that existed in my mind.
In my bed.
In my coffee.
In my dreams.

‘Us’ for those minute seconds in which you endorsed me.
‘Us’ for those moments in which we maintained our lips stuck.
I hate it again.
You are my warmth.

And i know that this warmth keeps on flickering.
Keeps on twirling.

I will shut this warmth.
Will haul the acids,
Will thwart the sounds,
Will barge the roads,
Will throw myself.
I will ensure,
I will shut this warmth.

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About The Author

Heerak Singh Kaushal

A person who is not afraid to 'call a spade, a spade'. You can often find me in two moods, either talking to everyone or just a quiet child. I live in a bubble that whatever it is shown in the newspapers, people are still good at heart. I wish you the best and may your pain just blow away!

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