The Strummer

On the way back, while the sky moved away from the sun and reached out to the stars, I felt like a guitar string being strummed between what I needed and what I deserved, leaving behind a trail of thoughts and silence, and no footmarks for there is no snow, I walked as I talked, scared of being followed, still afriad of expressing the joy of a moment not yet there, clinging to an explanation where none is sought, like a no status update since long on your FB while your life is lost in the sinusoidal frenzy of rhetorical revelations, I see it all and believe, yes this is indeed better than verbal diarrhea!

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