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Nights that witness my besmirched side surpasses the number of days in a calender. Doubtfully do I ransack your room, to keep tab on your calendar, maybe 'your calendar' will come in good terms with my nights' count. It's another way of escapism, from my own room of thoughts. The deadliest prison I've ever been in, is 'my mind'. Sometimes, heart does come to unlock the foyer, but in vain.
Do you know that the seconds hand of my lightening bolt-shaped clock moves inchmeal? I try my hand at all the techniques suggested to invite sleep, like counting from 10 to 01; contemplating the direction fan rotates; holding my breath for 5 seconds; replaying what all happened that day and deceiving myself that I slept. Everything goes like the words engraved in beach sand. Like always, the nights become longer than ever.
Again, I look at the number of days in your calendar. Anyway, days aren't equal to nights, right? Perchance, they might collide sometime, in future. But majority of times in the past, never lived up to my expectations. No, not expectations? Can I call it that? I stopped expecting, long time back. When I waited for my people to bring home a bag full of love, they came with guile and if possible a pile of poisoned love. I stopped expecting, then. Anything and everything.
So, these nights no? I was telling you about them. They aren't close to me like they're to most of the souls that lay bare. They're hard and wild. I'm being tamed by their wilderness. But, I accept it. Long nights help me caress my misdemeanors. My flaws stay with me during those lonely nights. We tend to remember people who walks with us during tough times, unlike who rejoice with us. They built a hut in our hearts, whereas others are still close, but you provide them just a cot. Only because you perch on the cot always, doesn't mean that you're far away from the hut. It houses your clandestine emotions. It's tough to accept. #Hope#yourquote#yqbaba#Calendar#longform#powrimo
