Its been a year.
The concept of rains has changed from Darjeeling tea to semi-ground Columbian coffee beans.
Although grave hours of contemplation still require chewing paper.
The world is still a crumpled orb of discarded poetries, and elaborate love letters written the wrong way.
Its actually a huge transition from chewing the edge of your paper cups to tissue wiping rich plum lipsticks.
... We travel backward more often these days and my feet have these tiny bunions from standing on my toes time and again.
The rainbow has of late travelled one whole arch,
and is probably waiting to reach the other end.
You have more creases traversing that mole on your palm,
and I am yet to get that wisdom tooth removed.
We keep some old muffled giggles as a leftover,
like silly little hangnails,
that you keep nibbling on to kill time.
Its been a year, and we're still frozen in time,
calling out to the hushed planets of each other's names.
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