It’s two hours past midnight and, the room still smells of summer this fall night. She’s got the mattress pulled over to the window that replaced the wall and, an untouched bed five feet away. There are two novels stacked beside the mattress – both being read simultaneously. The yellow outside brings out the pink in the purple blanket and, adds orange dust to the red pillow. No curtain hides the window, letting the sky change the palette of the room with time and, mood. She settles in with her hair pulled back in a bun made with neat intentions but messy results and a cup of cinnamon infused mocha – her taste often made atrocious expressions on other faces. Continue reading Cinnamon Coffee
I am another
Cry for humanity
That will die out
In a few month’s time.
I am another
Candle light march
That will get tired
In a few month’s time. Continue reading One More
I’ve got two blue shirts folded in front of me on the bed covered with black as I fold the third. I’ve let the chiffon curtain fall over the window letting the orange dance into the room. I stop midway as I stare down at the pattern and memories printed on it. I can feel the five o’clock warmth wrap itself around me but only through the sweater of fifteen months ago. I gently trace the polkas and kalkas, afraid to erase the memories yet trying to reach them one more time.
You’ve entwined your fingers
The ones that raise
Differently from yours
In a prayer
Of the same sincerity. Continue reading Name
I’ve been staring at the canvas with the steak of red and brown for the last fifteen minutes. The limelight wraps it in an air of importance I’m unable to give it. It’s the maze that traps me at lunch and, again at midnight when I’ve fluffed the pillow thrice, or anytime between, before or after.
My brown locks
With tiny fists.
“It’s just playful banter.”
To my dearest,
How are you?
Well, I hope?
Time is a funny thing, isn’t it? A language of its own; an emotion without boundaries. Somehow, they’re not just a part of you but, they make us too. And yet, we can’t have time ever… Have you ever wanted to catch time and hold on to it for just a bit more time? Like catching a butterfly on a summer afternoon?
Alas. Time is something that’s always there yet never ours.
Say, remember that impromptu drive to the mountains? Remember how the twilight wrapped us in an infinity as the sun set?
“Life always gives us moments. One, two, three… infinite, really. Life’s a box of moments. Life’s a box of infinities.”