Lost in translation

Megha's World

“The quiet sense of something lost” 
― Alfred Tennyson

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I’m lost in the translation 
wandering between the pages of  a book
hiding between the folds
and sitting under a neatly folded
dog-eared page
waiting to be pulled
I’m surrounded by the pages 
of my life 
and left behind in the
stories untold
that old shattered spine
of that dusty book
mirrors my life
I fervently crave for that 
intense fresh smell
we usually find 
in the binds of book
so new
so naive
I crave for that smell
which lingers on my breath
and gushes the memories of life
I rushed to forget
I’m lost in the folds
and the missing pages
where my story took a break
and can be found 
in those missing traces
That blotch of the ink
like a stain on my soul
hides the very essence of my life
devoured it whole
I’m lost in the translation
wandering between the pages
I…

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