Ghost of You

You were 17 and crying in my dream last night. I became 21 and hollow when I woke. And then, I was crying too.

I can’t believe the world moves on without you. It shouldn’t have. It should have stopped — pausing, looking back at you while you tie your shoelaces, waiting till you joined us, and then continue walking with our fingers interlaced as before.

Time should have stopped. The clock that ticked so rhythmically along with your breath — it feels unnatural that only one of the two should have ceased. Time pushed against me, until I became your age, and then I outgrew your age too.

It feels unfair that life goes on. I was under the illusion that life was synonymous to you, until the two parted ways.

You who shone so brightly, you who smiled so brilliantly, you who cried so helplessly, you who sang, you who danced, you who redefined the meaning of love for all those who knew you. You lived, the way we all should have lived.

And maybe that is why you’ve moved on. Maybe I remain, because I am yet to live.