Dancing In The Wind

Every time you leave, my hours feel endless; stacking seconds against each other seems to take forever just because there are so many of them. I feel like a little café down the road with its windows thrown wide open, waiting for a pair of feet to scurry across the threshold, announced by a soft musical ding. I put out whimsical menu boards colored in chalk and bake word-cakes, only to throw them out resignedly as they go stale. Every day, I keep myself open for less and less time, hanging up the “CLOSED” sign with a sigh a little earlier every night. But I’ll never shut down. You know that, don’t you? That you can stay away for any amount of time, and then walk in out of the blue like nothing happened, and there will still be a sweet treat in here with your name on it.

A Letter Unwritten

I should be sending you a letter. But I fear that the words would break free from the seal and flow against the test of time. So here I am, caging them in a space where you and I can meet again and again, if only to seek warmth on lonely nights. Like two strangers on either end of a park bench, unspeaking and pretending to be oblivious, and yet comforted by each other’s presence. Here we are, alone and together.

Escape From Existence

I travel a lot these days. There is an exhilaration, some sense of wild excitement that envelops every time I’m in a new place. I hate the part where I know I am leaving – the idea of packing and all the enormous set of decisions and planning to account for my absence takes a toll on me; always has, even through college, even when it is about the return – but the butterflies and frown lines dissolve the moment I am finally, irrevocably in a moving vehicle and on my way.

Infinite

I didn’t have enough words in me to capture that moment. So I wondered, why not capture it as it is.

One of those rare moments of clarity when the world falls away and all that remains is a feeling of silent awe of being here, in the present moment, as part of something infinite.

The Haunting

I find you in the unlikeliest of places.

You spring at me from within the pages of a book, as the protagonist speaks words that once tumbled out of your breath. The letters dance and weave your name across the plotlines, but disappear just as I blink, and I’m left wondering if it weren’t just a play of light.