2 Mar 2012

the ragpicker

There is this picture. Of me standing, of him standing with his back turned at me at a very distant point, looking away. Looking away from me, possibly walking away from me.

When was the last time you heard a duet and smiled? When was the last time you could say for sure that those lines were sung for you? ages ago? 

It has been ages since she was loved back. Like a rag picker, she walked on roads catching glances, collecting smiles. Those hints of love that were passed on to her, she hogged onto them and lived entire life spans.
There was this high that she was addicted to. She tried different things, alcohol, melancholy and meaningless sex. She whored out. She holed out. Nothing, just nothing would work.

It is always easier to make some noise to defy that innate silence that has become you. But then there will be someone who is walking arms in arms and looks at you and smiles. You have to walk alone, like always. you will walk alone.


there should be someone who smiles when you smile, 
who sheds a tear when you do. 
who holds you tight.
who knows for sure that you belong, who knows for sure he belongs. 
there should be a love story. 


just too high on mush tonight. will wake up hungover from the spoils and then get-over it the day after.