Some days remind me of violet evenings. Of floating along smokes of cars, and taxis. Of plunging into the beautiful quicksand which breeds yearning in its depths. Of sweaty fingers clinging on to each other. Of breath beating in the rhythm of light. Of slender visions in pretty frames. Of meandering memories and smoggy sight.
Some days remind me of foamless waves. Of tears held inside tender shells with care. Of tampered, yellow pages full of love. Of fainting faith, flesh wetted, rot. Of humid breeze amidst long, wild hair.
Some days remind me of musical nights. Of words unsaid with gaps and smiles. Of covering and uncovering moments. Of passion bursting itself into fragments that spread along the clouds, empty streets, windows. Of trembling muscles that wept for distance. Of promises cremated and then showered by flowers.
Some days remind me of those eyes. Of the spark of togetherness that cuddled thoughts. Of that craving which can never be quenched. Of green glass bangles jingling, sublime in pain. Of unvisited crossroads without a name. Of a touch cleansed by an indifferent winter rain.
Some days remind me…