Sunday, December 13, 2015

the tree had stored my words for ages
the sound of my words were lost in those green borders

today I could hear them clearly
those words
whom I lost
those words
they are back
I could hear them clearly

they are all around me like fallen orange leaves

now the trees are lonely
without my words
they are murmuring black stories

collecting my words
I shall escape from the garden
your roots have settled in deep
you can't follow me anymore...

Saturday, December 5, 2015

I don't remember since when or why I have stopped coming here! Is it because I stopped being sad? Have I eventually learnt to be happy? 

And, the fact that I am here again, is making me wonder! 

Sadness is coming back. 

Sadness is a white hibiscus growing on my roof. It lures me to colour outside the boundaries. It makes me pour gray smudges all over the sketches. 

The letters I write to you, turn me into a new ghost. 

I make you my new lie.

A longing to smell like the warm rain, all over again ...