The Haunting past

High up in the sky and deep inside the cottony clouds
The mirror is clear and I see my face in the droplets;
Content to have escaped the fetters of sulky emotions,
Frequently made turbid like tempest makes of glass,
And able to unintimidatingly look into my own eyes-
Serene and immaculate- craving no more for you,
Even if the terrible thing was to bid a tearful adieu;
Knowing that out of sight might be out of mind,
Indulging in newer ventures to leave a past behind,
That proudly was a basket full of fresh dreams
Bartered in lieu of what I felt were mutual feelings.
The last string is still attached, feeble yet unyielding,
Holding onto me like a child drowning in deep sea,
Who realizes that it’s sometimes better to let go
And try to explore that which’s underneath!

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