OLIVE

(Almost fiction, inspired by the truly unique CP. 🙂 )

There’s a blessing to your eyes

With a dainty face, the opposite of shy

The wispy flyaways, long lashes

Flutter just so slightly,

Graceful like a knightley

In an oscar nominated film

Very few watched.

 

The peace on her face, the expression lacking

Everything, it’s so easy to fall for her-

You should, it’s a treat to see

A sleepstruck friend. My sleepstruck friend.

 

Olive blanket, pale glow of fair skin

Speckled with red pimples, but you’ll still love her

Closed eyes that you instinctively know are pretty,

Thick hair scattered over an olive pillow.

 

Awake, it’s a whole new scenario.

You still want to be her friend though,

it’s still a treat to behold a pretty face and figure,

This time, the face is rife with irritation

And amusement and teasing glints

As she tries not at all to be cool

 

Authenticity suits her, just like her clothes

Custom made and perfectly fitted

The colours complementing her personality,

Equally vivid and mesmerising

Carried effortlessly.

 

You want to be her friend- she’s a perfect catch

Moody and lazy and pretty and kind

Caring, funny, manpulative, short fused

 

It’s a joy to behold her, a tall task to keep her

But you’re gonna wanna try

As hard as she can test your nerves

As hard as her games hit you

As hard as your elation can fall,

It’s an improvement to not knowing her

 

It’s a privilege to know her

It’s worth taking all those pictures,

Not being in any one,

It’s a far cry from misery, it’s worth a picture credit

At least.

 

But when you see her pretty, blank face

Sleeping soundly, the pride lost

You will wonder what changes

When the delicate eyes flutter open.

Mourning A Loss

Watch me cry over the deepest loss I have yet faced in my life- my entire childhood.

Okay, so this is what happened to me last week.

I was doing some much needed cleaning and sorting in my home (because I was on a new year, new me! kind of high) and I found tons of stuff that transported me straight to 10 years ago. It’s a little scary for me to realize I’d been hoarding books and games since that innocent little age and that it’s been 10 whole years since I’d begun properly reading. I was a little overwhelmed by the quantity of my selfishness and the amount of support my reading habit had obviously been benefitted by- so thank you everybody for spoiling me as a kid.

The weirder aspect of memories gushing is the distinctive feeling of nostalgia- I had no real experience of that until I came face to face with the objects that literally made my life complete then- and nostalgia has such a stand out flavour among all the other emotions! It’s a blend of welcome realizations, filled with the regret for the quick passage of time, the illusion of peace and quiet and utter satisfaction (that only a poor memory can support because I don’t believe anybody had that peaceful a life, as quiet a life as they wax poetic about while reminiscing about their childhood) and the joy of uncovering the secrets of your younger self- someone you’ve obviously grown up from but didn’t realize when exactly you changed so drastically.

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