Wednesday, 2 July 2008

The Red Hue in the Cup.

It's early in the morning, merely an hour after the sun had awoken. I find myself still with my cup, watching the red liquid toss and splash as I tilt it to my will. At the foot of my bed, my loyal dog sleeps, and I keep quiet lest I should wake him. The blinds clacker in the circulating wind, as they have always clacked while filtering in the morning shine. Yet, it does not reach me - it has not, for some years now.

But, what of that?

I'd like to finish this last drink and hope that there shan't be another. It's odd how I began this torried love for them then for the taste, thereafter for the intoxication, and now, to forget, and would rather believe, that I began to forget, continued for the intoxication, and settled upon it for the taste.

6 comments:

  1. W'ful words there..
    You made me relate so much to it.

    Btw nice blog too...

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  2. aww, thanks for taking the time to browse through my blog, shanker.
    Keep visiting :)

    "neither remember nor forget" - is that good or bad?
    waise, kis gham ko pi rahe hain app, if I may ask?

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  3. you painted this picture so beautifully. I, for one, has always been unsuccessful in sketching a picture of early morning :-)

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  4. Sach:
    I'm glad you could relate to it :)

    Annie:
    Well I will keep visiting - and sometimes, it's good, but just, sometimes.

    I think I've forgotten why I drink anymore :)


    Raaji:

    Thank you, it certainly means a lot coming from you :)

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  5. I now know about the loyal dog.

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  6. Ah the sound of the blindes. I know that too

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