Sunday, 28 August 2016

Terrible to be me

It has rained since morning. Or probably since last night. I woke up to a hazy Sunday afternoon. Distilled and quiet. The balcony is inviting. Shades of green around. My morning (afternoon?) cuppa beside me. I sit with a book, losing my sense of time. Glancing up occasionally at the beauty that only the combination of rain and silence can bring. The contradiction and yet the truth of this.

I choke almost. At something rising within my chest. A longing. A memory so fierce. For someone. Someone familiar? Maybe. Maybe not. Of wrapped arms and intertwined fingers. Of disillusioned realities and opaque dreams.
A longing that could pin you down for hours, or is it days? Who knows. I have already lost my sense of time, remember? Smoked out my rationality. The kind that brings a twinkle in your eyes so bright it could make the stars looks bland. All you hear is silence and your heartbeats. So loud that you fear he can hear them from where he is. Far far away from you. In every sense of the word.
And then maybe he would know what it is like to be me. But let me tell you darling. It is terrible, terrible to be me.


  1. A beautiful and lyrical post. Enjoyed reading it:)

  2. This is beautiful <3 You have read my mind :)

  3. Yearning for love always brings out beautiful poetry and writing, don't you think?

    Don't you also sometimes wish you'd never need to write poetry?

    Beautiful post dear. I felt the pain.

    Do drop by mine. Blog needs some TLC ;)


  4. How deeply longing binds us to our memories and hopes.
    Terrific writing.

  5. This is so beautifully written..:)


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