I've seen emotions decay like the fig leaves, not knowing when they detach themselves from the tree and embrace the winds. Only to be blown towards their end. To meet the dust in which they proudly grew.
The unseasonal rains feel like home, bringing in a wave of petrichor that seeks to wipe away a memory or two. Moments fade into the words of nostalgia, when the two share mugs of coffee and late night conversations.
This poetry is about peace, a silent monologue between me and my shadow. I once promised to stay by its side. The light in me began to fade away as I began to walk away from myself. My shadow disappeared, just the way I once wanted. I wonder how meaningful this life would be, when one doesn't lose oneself or others.
Tonight is all about the mist that covers this sky. No light can guide us through. The flickering street lights and the broken moon, all are too dull to illuminate the crossroads of hope. Perhaps, it's the season of falling apart, without being broken.
The stillness of these winds reminds me of the early morning dreams, the ones I forgot will the early rays of dawn. There is happiness in the endings, when you know that something can be begun without looking back.
The silence of this night is broken by the songs of the birds of happiness. Another month is lost to reflections.
Ps. How does it feel to not be able to feel anything ? I feel bored about everything.