A week has gone by; I have learned to fly on,
The mark of the coffee cup on the table has yet to dry,
And I feel happy, that for this week I haven’t cried,
Good times started rolling, and it’s time to march on.
Past was past how surreal and bizarre it may appear,
Yet for the time I spent, those was the golden moments,
Frozen by the history of these so called mysteries,
I call it the hysteria of the your utopic delusions.
I am now entering the phase where I’d have to be left alone,
Alone and free from you, and all sorts of yours memories,
I’d like to erase all kind of your inconceivable memories,
And at the end, I realised, you were not the only one,
But still my heart weeps for you, for the so long journey,
The journey of that demystified long lost files,
Where I learnt to raise my toast and legalise those long lost files.