Disillusionment.

Tiny lights, sitting pretty on the ground, miles and miles below - mocking at her, confined to her seat on the plane. Tiny lights glittering away fervently, mocking at the time, mocking at how much mayhem the day had caused. A night flight to add to the waste of an elaborate surprise. The transfiguration of happiness that she had been meaning to implore had devoutly lost its own meaning. Tummy twirls and tortured trembles be damned. There was no reason to reason with anymore. Jinxing the incomprehensible was no myth to fiddle with anymore. Gleam away, inanimate objects of science on the ground. Detest, discern - for all she cares. May you be in perpetual denial. Thoughts go around in circles meanwhile, rippling and returning to the same bode. In that moment, there was no peace. There was no war either. There was only nothingness - quite amiably seasoned. Tiny mind, where does it go transitioning away? Contemplating muddled her. Transfigured. So pretty, so far up above.

PS - This was written a while ago, and under disparate circumstances. I do not find a reason to not post it now.

my Nemesis.

So all the dreams came crashing down, ripped apart at the seams. What good had love done? What good was love now? All that was left was the hurt. All that mattered was the pain. The fiery singe burnt right through. Alarming surges of disbelief hit head on. Flashes across the years - all those years, infused with ethereal negativity - not wired in anymore. Out of sync. A wasted whim was all that stood to gain. Absolute bereavement, colliding emotions, evaporating faith. Oh, the multitudes of agony. Why, just another answerless question. A perpetual loop. Defining a confirmation of sorts, a mockery of what was never meant to be. What was wanted and what was needed were not one and the same. Had they been? Even if, they never would be again. It was failed destiny, a tryst with nature and signs and niceness. And ruined love. And it hurt, so so much. But then ruin was a gift they said, ruin was the road to transformation. The whoosh of a phoenix tail. The magic that caused a run down to wipe out, to begin anew, to evolve. Every scar that transformed into a lesson learnt, every tear that led into bigger, that gave way to better. 

Hush now, what was that? Was it true? Maybe the dream is still on. Maybe it is for real. And its time to part. Its time to be. Its time to go.