There you go
two words define you
as easily as the two syllables in your name
after you are gone
these words will move on
to find someone sane
all you will leave behind
a faint whisper of your misery,
few ashes in an urn, confined.
Let me say this before you purists take offence, this ain’t poetry. Have not categorized it (or anything else on this page) as such. This is what I want it to be, this is what you understand it to be.
As always, thank you for reading.
I started reading again.
This wasn’t premeditated. Yesterday morning I woke up early and I plucked a book off of my very dusty bookshelf. A green cover, bold font, stack of pillows and a glass of lemonade was all it took.
And I finished it in the morning itself.
It had been a year since I had read a book but it felt like a decade. So was it a joyous reunion? Did my fingers rejoice at the feel of those seemingly never ending pages? Did my eyes glisten as I read those tiny words crammed into a page? I think I need glasses.
Anyway, it was a confusing, mixed state of mind that I ended the book in, incidentally which had nothing to do with its contents.
After years of being an introvert bookworm, I had begun preferring my laptop to reading. And I actually uttered the following words: I’d rather watch the movie than read the book. Sacrilegious, I know!
I literally stuck to my precious laptop like a leech. I lost myself in hours of movies and TV series.
I think it was because I forgot how to imagine, to build a world inside my head.
Or I just became impatient.
Here’s hoping this sticks.