Some days.

Some days

there's nothing much to say,

Love songs,

she always likes to play.

Some days

there's nothing much to do, 

She lays

by him, with a sweet coo.

Some days

there's nowhere much to go,

On streets

Drive, as one, in slow-mo.

Some days,

there's nothing much to see,

Packed bags,

Lets jump, in sinful glee.

Incomplete?

Words were fluid, slithering onto paper.

Writings float around her eyes.

Her heart ached with mindless thought

Half written letter is all she caught.

Amidst the crowd, chatter all around,

Drowning deep into the noise.

In the thick of broken telephones,

Crucial babble, lost in silent moans.

Colors were sketched, stuck upon the screen, 

blending and dissolving as in water. 

Shades of red, pink, purple and maybe some brown,

but fraction-ed pictures were all that hung around.

Bricks so solid, walls entirely on four

the partition felt cold and brittle.

Some rough and wet, as soft as skin.

Sadly only air kisses fluttered in.