• nipunya_panda 49w

    A Window?

    The other day,
    I saw a square patch
    of sunlight, firm and concrete,
    seated on my cheek,
    I wonder if that means
    anything at all;
    if it means for the cosmos
    to have drawn a teeny
    window, three inches under
    my eyes, for insomnia and
    periods of long waits to
    escape out into some
    black holes I don't see yet.

    Or, maybe, it needs me to slowly
    slip away into a new empire, unruled,
    born out of some daydreams-
    a tinsel town, stuffed wall-to-wall
    with fairs and jamboree;
    I wonder if it wishes for me to
    ride unicorns and pith-black horses,
    and run off to govern a soul I
    call my own,
    to leave behind an old regret,
    an adored felicitation,
    a lost hand,
    a misplaced love,
    a wasted tear,
    a favourite second-self;
    possibly, an unsaid word that has
    always broken itself into
    numberless pieces,
    one for every disparate emotion,
    to build a chronicle it has always
    wished to narrate,
    an anecdote I have
    disliked to love,
    longed to despise.