Saturday, October 16

Pensieve

Are we born tiny and grow up or do we crumble away slowly with age?
As if parts of me choose to linger around certain memories, reluctant to move, like a child gaping at a toy he can't have. They pull back with need. I walk with caution, trying not to unearth a hidden memory. I walk into the desolate sands of dead habit where the only acceptable emotion is indifference. The mounds of dry earth keep shifting shapes but stay the same. I am free, alone and happy. But sometimes when I least expect it, it rains. And when it rains, it pours.

3 comments:

Anunaya Jha said...

I know the feeling. And when it pours, it REALLY pours!

Saagar said...

This looks more like a PTV post. He's growing on you.

The Decayed Canine said...

Oh dear.