Remains...

She needed no words -
The world read it in her eyes,
And he... heard it in her silence.
Between each breath waited a little love song
With tiny wings, ready for flight.
The milkyway smiled down
Upon the conversation of twinkling eyes
And fragrant familiarity.

And when the last twinkles were spoken,
And the last fragrance surrendered,
The world glimpsed it in her eyes,
And she... felt it in his silence.
He veiled it, she nurtured it;
They brought forth pain.
Blended with a larger potion of truth,
They consumed the bitter antidote for love
And waited...

To be consumed by the bitterness...they waited!
To cheer love's death...they waited!
Reluctantly...they waited!
But...the lees of love remained.

A writer… am I?

Almost 7 years in writing… non-fictional writing, commercial writing, and even technical writing. What has it done to the writer in me?

• The muse has forsaken me and my creativity has almost dried up.


• Where writing was the thing to do whenever I had time, now I have to make New Year resolutions (which are mostly made to be broken) for indulging in creative writing more often.


• Writing has become more about “Will the readers like it?” and less about “This is what I’ve been thinking.”


• Even on platforms as informal as a blog or a tweet, I find it difficult to abandon the stiff-necked capitalization, punctuation and formal tone. I have even stuck to standards in using a bulleted list for this post and not a numbered one!


• And, I feel compelled to write a conclusion and make this post sound complete. But just for the sake of defiance, I will not conclude…
  

P.S.: I have typed this out in MS Word, I’m now reviewing it, and I’m even contemplating on getting a second opinion, before I post it on my blog!