When thirsty, cool sweet fizzy flow
Will caress the dry, dreary drought of the throat.
Yet, once its over, its over.
Only way to feel it is to do it, again.
Again.
Again..
This self is rejoice-proof.
Any moment it is felt, it is swept away, away, far away..
Why can’t I ?
Memories can never fill voids.
©Aashiq S
India
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