I wouldn't shut the door on you, if you came armed with a few of the broken riffs, lost links, puzzled grins and weary nostalgias, I would pull you in and we'd jump through a new rabbit hole all over again. //caption// If you come asking for the truth, armed with questions that might want me to strip down of all grace, do not make the mistake of taking my silence as an answer. Because, there will be a day, a moment, a point of time, when the sky will be grey and I'll be tired of pretending. I've seen the world through distorted mirrors, reflecting back my grimaces at every sunrise. I've been late in loving the nuances that make up the premise for the archaic disaster, about to unfold. I've lived a weird life. But, I shall stop pretending when the time is right. When the hues of artificial rainbows stop cascading down the curves and bends that need no loving. Ask of me no such favours that I may not keep, after I've stopped mistaking the distorted mirrors for glittering sparkles of a disfigured assemblage of stars.
