Time never heals heartfelt wounds, the abrasions that lingers long after the inflict, for time just put layers of sediments on top of the contusion, befooling the mind about its existence. Until a zephyr from the south comes with the long lost love fragrance, sweeping away all the layers of ostentatious comfort deposited over time, rushing the old yore out. And you stand there looking at the gore thinking what has got you this time around

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