I don't know why I am writing this now. For god knows how long, reading a blog, any blog, leaves me with a tear welling in my eye, the taste of a dairy milk chocolate, and the faintest scent of lemon in the air. They say love smells of roses, but to me, it smells of lemons, cleaner, sharper, harsher. When grasped too tightly, the thorns of a rose may cut your palm, drawing rivulets of blood, but only a lemon's sting can draw the tears from your eyes. The scent of lemon lingers for days, weeks, months, an insubstantial whisper, fleeting as a glimpse of woman through a harem curtain. For months and months, I had wandered in the darkness, my heart blinded, with only the vague promise of an eventuality after her silence ceased, to keep myself on my feet. It made me think a lot. It made me write, as I never had. The taste of chocolate and the scent of lemon can make you do a lot of things. Perhaps it's time now to share what goes on the recesses of my mind when I'm in a reflective mood. Perhaps something interesting lies there. Perhaps not.
No comments:
Post a Comment