things she overlooked

by sunsets on saturdays,
lying in her bed,
she'd consume a novella
and three sesame honey toasts.
her back hurt.
were a rumbling stomach and a frail body
what she overlooked?

she preferred not to have romeos,
still her clumsy desk had got brews and
love letters addressed to
fictitious characters and war heroes.
she sought literary
endings, conclusions, and closures to die for
i, lost amongst a pile of books, am
devoid of epilogues.
the literature -
professors had told
her strictly to stay away from.

her obsession -

1. slow kisses near windows -
   peeking through cracked walls,
   the descending sun remained unnoticed
   while she’d imagine some moments of love.
2. and dry roses lain
   between unfathomable verses.
   a word - she often came across
   but didn’t know the meaning of

she totally forgot
about her tinder account
and wine glasses.
the former was for smuts;
the other for dying hope
around her ankle, a black thread
and an unread chapter on a dead kindle
she’d bought ages ago.
a lo-fi playlist she created on spotify -
premium of it she couldn’t afford.

an absurdist’s meaning,
the chapter without an end.
she hadn’t known -
mystery would be so engrossing.
and i merely an experience becoming a need
she overlooked.

***

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