She was a wonderful teenage girl who had the miraculous power to cure herself from any wound, either physical or mental. With her own salty tears, she would cleanse her raw wounds. And her breaths were given, as though not to breathe but, rather, to fan her sores.

I didn’t want a story—a beginning. Not anymore. I have long ago stopped walking on a road where my dreams walk around. I change my destination a hundred times if I ever see an old wish of mine standing there in its real form. I don’t know them. I don’t want to. They too must not know me. They too must not recognise me as their owner.

But if ever I try to mend, some other bodies would instantly break, would instantly be fragments.

Only to close these eyesto sleep in the lap of loveand stay there forever.

From all my dreams where you felt everlastingto all my clothes your words used to wear,to the old end, to the new beginning,you have lost me everywhere.