Written in the stars.

Stars. Millions of them.
Gazing down at us. With their glittering gaze.
As we lay sprawled, on the cold, silver sand.
Four tiny figures, looking up at the sky, in awe.
The stars provide much fodder for thought.
We gaze, in retrospect, as nostalgia creeps in.
We think of times, happy and sad.
Of times that shone bright, and times the shine was clouded. Of
mistakes we've made, of opportunities we've missed.
While the stars, who have seen us through it all, smile down at us, knowingly.
We gaze, as we look for answers.
Answers to our insecurities, answers to inexplicable voids.
We look for directions, as we grope around in the darkness, in search of light.
While the stars, omniscient, smile at us, knowingly, bidding us to learn.
We still lay, insignificant and deluded, beneath the stars.
Still looking for answers. Still in pursuit.
Trying to connect the dots, trace out directions, seeking
enlightenment from the twinkling sky.'
The stars seem timeless. Infinite.
They seem to be a part of a bigger plan. One beyond our comprehension.
But there's solace in the insignificance.
We still grope around in darkness, but the stars tell us there will be
light.That they have it all planned, as they smile down at us,
knowingly.

In defense.

 

 

Your eyes sweep across the room.
Overlooking every face, as they look for one.
They come to rest, on locating me.
I can feel your fixed gaze on me, while I look pointedly ahead.
Pretending to be oblivious.
Oblivious to you, studying all my trivialities.
Knowing every little smile that touches my lips, and every little twitch of my eyebrow, does not go unnoticed.
I pretend, to be unaware, of how everything I do, stirs emotions within you.
Of how, your eyes follow my gaze, trying to see what I'm seeing. Trying to feel what I feel.
I fail to see those eyes of yours. The fire in which has been doused, by my cold facade.
That fire of desire. Of longing. Longing to be with me.
I pretend, to not notice, how your lips curve into a hopeful smile, and how your eyes twinkle, when they meet mine.
For, in pretense, lies convenience.
I have walls built around myself.
A wall to protect that sacred space. That forbidden space.
That space, where indifference makes way for vulnerability.
That space, which has once been encroached and stamped upon.
I look at you, and smile apologetically, willing you to look away.
You don't.
You are perfect. You really are.
But you are just not him.