adimeh
I lust after an unblocked nose and an un-aching head.
Slowly, steadily, she came
And left a mark.
If only I had
Seen it sooner.
Intense is the silence that fills my being after a cup of tea.
Weave fragrant thoughts with elusive vapour,
And you will know.
Don't.
I held his last thought in my mind, and caressed it with understanding.
The shores were far, but there was a lighthouse in sight.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, eating her cool, masala cucumber and staring at a particularly unspectacular piece of sky, waiting for a sun she knew would set, but not believing it would.
He should have noticed the violet fury in her eyes before her smile slipped and shattered into million shards of glass. What brings greater misery than the death of a dream?
Sounds, smokes and clanging cups of tea.
Some sunshine, perhaps, albeit shadowed
By over powering clouds of memory.
A trick here, a trail there.
Training for a journey
Sans destination.
Unabashed, I cavort.
This is my last feather, my last words, my last station.
Come. I am waiting.
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