A butterfly's pie.

They were meeting after a long time. He was anxious. She was cheerful. They had a summer together, and now a couple of winters since. They had named their weeks together on flowers. And there was a whole unkempt garden between them now. He called her butterfly, she called him apple pie.
So where does one start after ten reruns of their favourite TV shows, neither knew. It started with a crumbling apple pie on her plate and an open social networking site on his slate.

They met at a cafe. On a roof top. One of the busy by-lanes of a city they half explored in their previous life together. She asked for coffee - Black. No Milk. He wanted something cold to sooth his burning self. He asked for something Hot.

The place was set. The pleasantries exchanged. The accent changed. And the humour charged.

She had pretty eyes. His only for her. They wanted to talk, emote, maybe even communicate. And that is the thing with eyes, they just blink, flicker and close. And everything else is lost in between.

He did not remember why they parted, he did remember when. And the number of girls even since then. She remembered that night. And the sound of their fight. Her message tone echoed her fears. He was once too dear.

He dint love her anymore, of that he was sure. She wasn't sure why she still felt something weird.
They were like children lost in a playground from another time.
She smiled, he acknowledged. She had the same vacant expressions on her face. Something that he had not found anywhere else. He had the same grin, when he saw something he wanted.

He reminded her of everything that she had left behind to start afresh. She reminded him of the path he did not take. And on that day when the sun was setting over the city horizon, it did not matter to either of them. She just wanted to be with her apple pie. And he had found his butterfly.
Once Again.

The Phone is charged

Are you eternal
like the flame
I stroke
on the old
candle wick
which just burns
with no flick.

Are you love
In my arms
And the sweetness
In your warmth
Holding on
to my skin
With the passion
In your vein.

I want you.
You, just you.
You with my
Brokenness
You with my
Emptiness
I want you.
You, just you.

Scar the soul

How I miss the pain,
that kept me afloat.
On this river of gain,
with a full life to gloat.

A painful forgotten memory,
which burned half my soul.
A longing for the loss,
that made me once whole.

And one did drown,
when it hurt more than ever.
A choice in brown,
He lunged in, forever.

Life easier now,
and another love.
but a longing remained,
to scar the soul below.

Are we ready?

What is this life about anyway. It's like a maze that was intended with no final destination. You start and follow the predestined order of things and people. Your choices are well limited within the physics of this mechanism. It makes you feel like you're in a hamster wheel. One that is rotating at a very high speed.
One might argue that we have our choices and we choose to be a part of all this. Do you have a choice? If we did choose this, then why is it that we feel so numb. Like there is something out there that makes more sense than this ever did. Like life was given to us to serve a particular purpose. This consciousness needs validation.

I was sent here to alter the set course of nature and events. I was a lynchpin, without ever knowing where or how I served my purpose. That is the one question that makes us wonder. Yes we did play our part, but what was it. How did I influence in sculpting the future of this end of the universe without even being aware of it. 

Maybe I was placed here in this time and space for the purpose of asking these questions. These questions that might be read by an unknown person, who might take the right step towards answering them. And he in-turn facilitating someone else to accomplish his life's purpose. 

I want to find 

the end of the world

to look over the horizon

to the other side 

that is hidden

from us in plain sight

must bring it to light.

Where does this end

and where does it begin.

How do i escape

this loop of time.

Why do I feel 

that there is more.

Was I chosen?

an aberration.

To find an answer.

An Austrian Summer

We'd be in Austria
In that cafe
On that street
Overlooking those snow peaked mountains
Im sipping on my coffee; reading a book
You're sitting across
We're happy
Together;

And we have this golden retriever

We named him 'max'
Max is so adorable
A pup
Max is trying to get your attention
You are reading some magazine
Something about the old and beautiful castles around
We decide to go there the next day
And then we walk out and take Max along
You're holding on to my arm
I like it when you do that
The cobbled streets
There is a gentle breeze
And it carries a familiar tune
Some violinist playing in one of those cafes

And you smile.
And we head home.

A Revelation

This post is about a Pen. (Yes, a pen!!)

Lets start by describing it first. 

1) Its thin, metallic.

2) One of those twist-me-to-open types.

3) Its made by Cross.

It came into my possession as a gift. From one ex-lover to another. I do not remember the exact date or the occasion. It must have been on one of those Oxytocin induced rush that, that 'someone' decided to part with it.

It has been in my possession for about 5 years, give or take. And never once did I use it. It used to be safely hidden in my drawer. For a long period of time, precisely till about a week back, I thought this pen wouldn't write. So the last time I went back to my place, I got it along with me.

Why am I writing about it? Because it writes!! Woohoo!!

After all these years, I try to write with it and guess what! It responded. Well thats not the actual reason.

I found out something about it that made me sit and wonder. 

On one of its sides, there is a logo etched. I might have seen this before, cannot recollect seeing it though. But the curious thing is that the Logo belongs to a company that my ex-beloved-pen-gifting-girlfriend finally started working for. What are the odds eh! The first time I heard about the company was from her. 

Maybe it is just a coincidence. But this fate-believing irrational self refuses to let it be just a coincidence.

Maybe it was a message from the future. A warning. And I was too careless to look. 

Well, thank you. I intend to use this from this day on.

Start.

- How long has it been?

- Quite some time. A couple of odd months.

- I presume you're going to apologize to me?

- You guessed right.

-What took you so long?

- I got wound up with the banalities of life.

- So we start again?

- Yes!!