A Grown-Up

Being alone, despite its bitterness, have its bright sides.

Image by Atharva Tulsi from Unsplash

Here we go again.

A slender body, inclining above the desk full of papers.

Lips unkissed.

The body is untouched.

The youth being wasted by each second, spent in solitude.

You are too old for this, she says.

You are too old to believe in fairytales anymore.

You are where you are supposed to be.

Maturity has its place in life.

Sometimes expressed by the loneliness in which we understand its vast possibilities.

The possibilities not available if wrapped up in somebody’s else arms for good.