You are as true as the ink on those blank pages which are no longer empty but filled with the words I felt , it is filled with my heart beats , blood , stutters and all hiccups that were in our ways .
They are filled with all those emotions I never expressed to you .
You are as permanent in memories as the blurred letters , you are like those pages of my diary which begged to be read but my scars are still fresh , my heart still bruised .
You are as evident as the fragrance in the air when I first picked a siuli from the ways we walked .
That fragrance is not tainted but became old like the wine in the pages .
You are there , making an abode out of my heart .
And I still smile to them to let them know that I've moved on when they didn't know I've fallen.
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