Pensive pensive pensive.
I write from work, looking out of my window at the dirty rooftops of Nus. I remember that it's friday, and if i work late i'll be the only one in office. I hasten to pick up my pace, start shuffling the papers on my desk for the quickest task to finish, but it makes no difference. A min later im still staring out the window. Thunder rumbles and it comforts me. There's only one crack in the dark clouds that frame this little view, and the setting sun comes through. Literal rays of light pass through and and one seems to land straight on my keyboard as i type. I imagine myself bathed in the light while the rest of the office contiunues to be still, shrouded by rainclouds. As i stare and marvel at the illumination of the clouds from within, i start to feel silly because im indulging in pointless writing, but it's been so long, and it feels so right. When have i ever stopped anything because it felt right?
I decide to get some fresh air, and walk up the stairs to the roof top. The door is open, and i step in to the slight drizzle and beautiful wind. It's dark already, and i can see the lights from all around. I light up, take deep breaths, and close my eyes.. The wind gets stronger, and the drizzle slightly heavier, and still i stay. Still i imagine what could be, still tears for what could not, is not, still at arms length they stay.
If my mood had a colour, it'd be deepest purple. A texture? It'd be plush, and you'd sink into it. If i could decide what to with it, i'd wrap you in it; all the while pulling the sides closer so you'll come nearer and it wouldn't look like my doing.. A scent? A light musk that wld fill your senses as the heat from me evaporates it. The taste? Me.
Memories, overlayed with wants, plied with needs and dusted with the future.
