Sugar Words

I cannot count on my fingers the things that I fail to learn in the first attempt.

The colour of the soil after a thunderstorm,

The spilled coffee on the floor

The heena on the hands of newly wed bride are the same shades of brown

Every six months I lose a person, a dream, a skill almost mastered as their existence becomes a mere existence nothing less nothing more.

Because I always almost never see the warnings that trespass me 1800 times; because I talk about embracing individuality and almost every single time they turn out to be unnecessary mediocre speeches that no one can comprehend.

I love the last ray of light from the sun much more than the preceding darkness and my mind forces me in believing that maybe world isn’t able to see who they really are and that I have to be their messiah to show the light in them to the rest of the world.

Everyone keeps telling me why do I expect anything different at all in a world where even the sun sets in the same direction every single day.

I reply hope is addictive.

Regretting ‘almosts’ is like regretting that extra cup of coffee that you drank at 9pm,

But I just love coffee too much to regret it and so I’ll read a novel till 6:00 in the morning and wait to see the first ray of light.

Because if I start a novel I will complete it no matter how much I disapprove with the author for the way he changes the character completely till you do not recognise the person or the story.

It is like being at the edge of the cliff and never being able to sense the fall till it’s already the next chapter and pain seems so mystically overwhelming; that I daydream about if almosts can make me treasure the ache and weave an intricate piece of literary what would absolutes do to me.

Maybe just maybe I love all my almosts way too much for them to turn to absolutes.

This is to all the almost friends, almost more than friends, almost poems, almost successes, almost a completely different life.

Thank you for remaining just almosts because had I broke you like a broke the teapot from 1800s in the antique shop

I would have to keep you forever.

And

I never really wanted you.