Truisms are dubious platitudes.

You are a fountain of uncertainty, a drizzle of random things and of random emotions slacked out by the yearning to perpetuate a hopeless war. With you I do not know what to believe in. With you I choose to stay in muddy waters and sinking becomes redemptive. Maybe there’s more certainty underneath the ripples and the splashes than this enthralling surface.

I’m certain of my affection towards you but why do I care to see the mutuality of this all? 


To no one in particular,

I’m sorry I have not be able to write as I have been extremely preoccupied of late. Pray don’t think I’ve probably forgotten you whoever you are or our non-existent memories of separate days gone-by. I’ve reserved a spot of the day dedicated to the recollection of your non-being. I smile to myself whenever the mnemonic blotches of these days ‘unpast’ appear in my meager breaks. You’ve always been remembered,