Your touch makes every mundane, magical!

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Obsessed with
Broken nails, undone nail polish
The unkempt sheets, the windowsill
Unused postcards and bookmarks
Uncouth poetry, other's love stories
Sunlight motif, summer blossoms
Stranger talks and self loathing.
Oddity of the mundaneness!

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May be our boat is stucked somewhere.
That's why journey became mundane. Thought of spending time with you at every sunset doesn't excite me anymore. My heart doesn't remind me of you when I see a meteor. Cologne of yours doesn't entice me anymore. Surprisingly I don't look for a tryst now. I don't crave for you to understand my mystical talks. Sometimes an incomplete journey is far better than drown in the river of sentiments.

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The pastel shades I embraced,
Hues mundane, yet so chaste.
Your love for me
had that tranquil grace,
My subtle heart,
forever you encase.
Peace triumphed,
You, my zephyr, aced.

-

I saw a butterfly...

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Sometimes, going on vacations
To some outskirts to get away
From daily routines isn't enough.
I want to travel to places where
I can kiss goodbye to thoughts
That bore me every fucking time.
I want to achieve a mental state
That will not tolerate thoughts
That appear as hindrance to the
Creative side of my jaded mind.
I want to go on an everlasting
Vacation to free myself from
The mundane ways of thinking
Fearlessly, once and for all.

-

What's life without
a little romance?
The kind that makes
mundane things magical.
Like what rain does
to glass windows and traffic lights.

-

Sometimes the most mundane things tell you more.

My umbrella is black and manual, but also is water repellent and reverse folds. A little bit of this, some of that.

Just like me.

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The Mundane Magic.
(a page out of my diary)

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Returning home
As the sun turns tangerine
The eyes gleamed
In some hallucinative images.
Seeing the sun dissolve
Into the horizon, I wonder
What if, one day
The sun forgets to set.
Images blurred,
The childlike self mocks a bit,
As I walk back home, unheed.

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