when my soul embarks

My pieces of prose and poetry get a title later. Much after writing the whole way through. And the title is usually a line from the playlist at that moment. Life is much like that.

A half done tattoo.

Two weeks of separation.

Curiosity.

Turning your face away.

Crying within four walls.

Restlessness.

Vagabond feelings.

An unrecognizable face in the mirror.

Holding on.

Moving ahead.

Plans of drunkenness.

Lumps in my throat.

It is a half-written story. Changing course, finding meanders at every bend of the road. But there's only one life we get. And constant detours are going to take us only this far.