i do not want to open the window because i know that merely a feet or so away from me, the air begins to warm under the tendrils of burly trees. the sweet aroma of hugs and delicacies sickens me. the coloured powder and geometric perfection of rangolis rubs the friction of gloom into my eyes. i do not want to feel jubiliant (not that i know how to).
if i ever doubted it, i know tonight that buildings are the women of a community that stands on concrete bones with brick blood in its veins. in welcome of eyes like mine, they've been dressed and designed tonight. the light is everywhere (or is it, huh ?). dangling from terraces where some summer evening, a girl like me played hopscotch, these chinese lantern lights look like fireflies from every planet, in every hue, sewn together, and stringed through callous copper wires to create necklaces for these dead walls that on some winter morn, echoed of my depression.
there are no festivals in my life anymore. i think i exhausted my quota of celebration during all the days you were mine. there were times i looked for ways to get lost and there's now, when i get lost looking for ways. sorry, but faith does not bring back what fate takes away. today, good triumphs over evil, and i fear i lose half of me. i cloak my fear in the scum of hate. its a facade, but ain't i too ?