"Bhalo theko, subho jonmodin.
Lekhagulo aaj o omolin."
Lost love is still love. It just takes a different form, thats all. You cant see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move then around a dance floor or give them a little peck. But when these senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.
Life has to end. Love does not.
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