My wife doesn’t exist.
She is illusional.
Had she been there,
We could have gone for holidays.
There are many who are angry for my want to get married.
People say that marriage is nonsense and in some cases a burden.
But I don’t think so.
Even if love is there not, with trust and faith love too can be got.
Maybe we might had been blessed with children,
With whom my and her parents would have played with.
The life would have gone on.
But yet she is illusional,
An object to the mercy of fate,
A twist in many turns,
Somebody it would be,
But mostly not,
For there is no one written
And the one who was is in a land beyond anybody’s reach.
For as I mentioned before she simply doesn’t exist.