I run.
I pretend.
The little bubbles of lies and smiles,
The rays of stares and glances,
The epiphany for this temporary moment
Holds me by throat,
And throws me back.
To the ocean of realities.
This ineffable pinch in the heart
Squeezes the ink out of me.
Would you like the blot of my ink,
All over you?
Would you like the colors,
All over us?
While we live,
As we leave.
Sanopandey 