Peppermint winds, blowing any which way…

Beneath moth-balls and creamy layers of sordid dust, stands innocence, and insecurity. And the fuchsia of hidden jealousy. And a lot of impatience too. The gun metal colour of restlessness. The pink of newly peeled-out revelations.

But, I know no colour. right? Sorry. I have nothing to camouflage behind. I have my fears. And the dread, of being left on my own, and not a thing more.

But sigh. I write as if you would read, as if u would care, as if you would reach out and catch my blue glitters falling from your colour-blind roof today.

Nyah. U won’t pretend. You will just understand it all.

And so, Come along. Now. You know I can’t wait too long..