though we meet everyday after school at the class benches, regaling each other with stories of yet another ersatz scandal, forcing customary laughter with proverbial jokes told for the 23124th time, and making the same combinations of cards (and numbers) morph mathematically into the magical 24.
we have, officially, ceased to be.
no matter how much we go on kidding ourselves.
in fact, our real parting should have been on march 19, 10:45pm, in victoria theatre. When the final screams of ke-bah-bah resonated around the muffed walls of the vt, and the swish of the heavy curtains closed in and cut the last threads that held us and the audience together.
We were sundered, then and there, but reality proved too cruel on newly-tender ears.
And so we dreamt on-
even in states of semi-conciousness.
deluding ourselves, stubbornly clinging on to remnants of our works, thinking to keep memories alive when they lie, torn and broken, in the dark recesses of the rubbish truck- a world hidden behind metal walls.
How gloriously we sang, our school song, club song and songs awash with promises of eternity. Our world- immortalized, or so we believed, as this melody of hearts beguiled, throwing the euphoria-thirsty us, yet again, into another mirage.
You are my oasis- and falsities, our refuge.
Then came thursday, dear thursday, when our self-constructed heaven threatened to crumble under the weight of separation; three from our number, leaving to seek sunnier shores. Their farewells, like cold drops of reality, raining onto our vulnerable selves. We rant and rail, throwing tantrums like children being denied their candy, wringing sympathy from the afore-apathetic crowd. We want our utopia back!
Tears, bitter as bile, flood new shores like tsunami waves.
our final bow?
we have come to the end of the end.
thorns are growing amongst the snug bed of roses-
let go, before one shreds your paradise.
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