One of those nights.

Tonight is one of those nights,
Night of satisfying silence
And paints flowing free
And of idle hunger

Night of showers in my bed
Clouds wrapping my head
Of songs to the ever gorgeous Gulmohar tree
And of half done poetry

A violent urge to write, to speak, scream, to laugh, to hug, and hug tight, hold you in my palms and crush as I clench my eyes to white space, to melt in yours, to press my pen hard enough to slice the book, to stop.


Look! Mirrors shuffling. Do you recognise any?

Sigh. Fickle. Fragile.

One of those nights.