Hi, I know I’ve been dormant for a longtime and I apologise for being so disconnected. I know I haven’t been accepting any awards lately, so sorry for that too.
Here’s something I wrote recently. I would love feedback from you guys because i am writing after almost six months. I am genuinely looking forward to hearing suggestions or anything you wanna tell me about my writing. Thanks a ton 🙂 STAY BLESSED!
Its midnight and we’re talking about your favourite country. I melt into your brown eyes. The smoke from your cigarette comes close to my nose. I breathe it in, it smells like you. You tell me about your day and how you’re sick of the monotony. Secretly, I wish I am a chaos in your mundane Mondays. The end of your cigarette turns into a shade of orange when you take a drag. The smoke rings encircle my thoughts. It’s your second stick and my 20th time asking you to stop. You laugh it off and pull some corny dialogue, like always. Like always, I smile. Now I see you looking at me. Your lips slide into a soft grin. Between your two fingers, you take that cigarette stick and leave it on the side table. Its dark and we struggle to see each other’s face well. But I have memorised your curves and the crinkle by your eyes. Under the moonlight, though it’s faint, I can see your upper lip shadowed under your moustache. Your moustache, it annoys me sometimes when I can’t taste your lips. I can see the smoke from the cigarette infuse into the air, like a serpent it moves. You ask me what keeps me so silent today. I almost let your words pass, too distracted by your presence. Somewhere in the middle of staring at your face and dissolving into your embrace, I smell the traces of Old Spice. It feels like home. It feels like my terrain. I see you’ve resumed talking about why Mini Cooper is a good choice. I know you can’t stand that car but pretend to love it. I know you remember it being my favourite from a casual conversation. It’s almost 2 and we’ve got work tomorrow. But, this is better than sleep. I can stay up infinite nights to hear you fuss over the broken coffee machine, the absence of good country music and working Saturdays. Suddenly, you decide to tell me that “crisp” is your favourite word. It makes no sense at all. It’s too trivial. But I don’t know why I find it important. At this point, I can’t hear anything at all. I’m too busy looking at your face. It’s one of the prettiest and most welcoming faces I’ve seen after my mothers’. You’re oblivious to my gaze, or are you pretending? I can’t tell. But your mouth shifts into a slight smile once in a while. So, I’ll take this as a cue to your chosen ignorance. I see you yawn, your eyes getting droopy now. Your yawn interrupts your attempt to crack a joke. The punch line gets lost somewhere, mixes with the soft breeze. I still laugh because, well, I know the joke you were about to crack for the seventh time. You finally stop talking and place your head on my shoulder. It’s not heavy, it’s not uncomfortable. Somehow, it feels like a balm to all my pains. I hear you singing the broken lyrics of ‘Say you won’t let go’ and I chime in. its 3 and we’re singing James Arthur like idiots. Oh, it’s so out of tune, but probably my favourite song. You’ve almost dozed off. I can see your face loosen and a calm engulfing you. It’s so quiet and serene. I look at you one last time before looking at the stars. Isn’t this surreal? Aren’t you everything I asked for from a million shooting stars? This is where I belong, this is what I call home.