We all are here to share some stories,
Stories that make life
And break inner demons.
There are tea cups, and flavored
Tea leaves pretending to offer contentment.
Someone claims, Contentment is ubiquitous.
A storm threats from the dusky cloud,
I wonder if the sky feels content
When it rains alone before dry souls.
Rumor has it solitude is happiness.
But solitude should not taste that good.
A freakish laughter breaks my question.
Drops of cold rain are touching the curtains.
There are loud whispers here,
About battles that we don’t hear,
About people who we fake affection.
In the sea of well cushioned chairs, there’s talk
Of unknown lives, and possibilities
That leak dreams with the sound of despair.
There’s a girl who we all see on Facebook;
There are angry admirers, hoping to live her life.
Time, as they say, waits for none,
Not even for our hushed bitterness.
I wish we lived in a perfect world,
And all animated puppets here
Had better dialogues.
I wrote this poem on a rainy day in December last year. Today is cold and cloudy, kind of perfect to re-write, edit and share the poem here. Also a perfect day to host a party and serve some tea. What do you want to talk on a cloudy day?