afternoon

Afternoon//

I sleep through the afternoons. The first thing I see when I wake up is venus. I hate to think about you so I think about stars and god. Like you both are the opposite extremity of the same scale. I pick up my book and look at these shells I got as a gift. A part of ocean is in my room, and I have always considered a part of those blues in me. But you always called me the shades you disliked the most, like your brushes could make nothing out of me, like I wasn't a part of any sky. I run along with time not because I want to but because I have to. At nights, I am a walking miracle because how could someone survive the misfortune of parting with you and smile? How could someone be ripped off of everything and still dance alone? I see the silent prayers and curses and try my best to fight them off, becoming better or worse day by day. Evening walks or morning prayers, what are these antidotes? I wonder how white you would have called my darkness now and how much more deeper I have to go just because I picked the wrong mirrors. But let me tell you about the rush of feeling alive in a world so dead, that your own echoes feel homeless. Your songs in the chamber so silent; you are the king of something, false hopes perhaps. And the next day suddenly, the tragedy of being dead in a world so alive, that the gold of sun begs the heavens to turn everything grey. He would have called me grey. Its morning. Rush of engines running and clocks ticking. I show up with my best smile and they question my intentions. Look dear one, my best may not be same as your best. Stand as tall as I possibly can but lets be honest, if venus was there I wouldn't have to cross question my mind a thousand times. Keep waiting for the sun to chime and their words to kill. Its getting closer, just a couple more miles. Back at home you look for you, you left somewhere 10 years back; keep your head on pillow just for 5 seconds and sleep through the afternoon.