Ganache that escaped my tips, Silk tee stained from it, The nights when I tended to gobble on calories, I was a mess ironic to the wardrobe so slick.
Millennials tired of the facades and charades Yet are unbeknownst to the reason it exists, We all become Listeners craving to speak, Babblers seeking ears to lend, Caricatures of their humour, Mulled wine on someone's lips, Poetry spilled on a brisk evening, Shade of joy in someone's pallet, Definition of renaissance in other's life.
Stuck in a game of Chinese Whisper My tongue is tied to what one perceives, For I liberate my leaking passion And they quilt it with love, I talk for seclusion for my mind And they already see me as a sunken soul.
Defining and redefining, Keeping part of ourselves on mortgage, We curate our beliefs and set forth to build ourselves. There's is a little voice, Prompting, "All of the little efforts matter" And I choose not to ignore it, Just like the post-it note stuck on my decade old fridge, Torn yet reminding me to Eat my almonds alright. @k_arathi