• _transient 30w

    I am trying to write here frequently.


    Read More

    When everyone was writing
    letters to the sky,
    I felt restlessly passive.
    Am I suppose to feel too?
    Do I overlook the obvious?
    Later that day,
    I read all the letters one by one,
    tried my best to relate
    but words kept on entwining
    into a non-native something.

    I remember
    getting attached to brittle memories
    that resurfaced on a lazy night
    when dream was still next door,
    only unacquainted.
    Nostalgia has often tricked people
    into believing.
    I too have been ensnared
    in one such loop.

    I think
    the sky mirrors my eyes
    I see me from the past,
    completely aware
    that this image won't last.
    And writing to the old me
    would be like a blasting gratification
    for retaining a naive outcast.