Noctis Verses

“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” ― Saul Bellow


Let’s write


Perhaps, in the end, everything we do is like the lines of chalk on a black slate or perhaps concrete – which are there only to be washed away.

I haven’t been regular and don’t think I can be, nor do I fancy I ever would be – so, it doesn’t make sense to have this running on a ventilator.

This would be my last post before I end it and close this window — I just wanted to express my gratitude to everyone who could bother with sparing some time to go through this place.

Goodbye and thank you!


Farm bleu

It came knocking, it doesn’t forget to collect it’s due. It tells me, no — rather reminds me how happiness isn’t for the likes of me. How it’s an insidious prison, and I am not even meant for prison like that – what I am however meant for is the farms of melancholy and ranches coloured a deep hue of sadness and the in-betweens.

Dear diary,

The other day I was flipping through a book at the bookstore that’s down the street — I read something that stuck, it’s not something that I haven’t across before – just, it’s becoming more relevant as the days pass by.

Before I say anything else, I’d like to say it’s all good!

I have more often than not felt like the third person when the pavement becomes unable to accommodate three – I am there, but am I? Often in the hustle of things and not harbouring guilt and being a good friend, in general, pushes me to a back burner, but it’s all good – just smile and nod.

Crystal will always be valued above the glass, product over the maker too – being a pauper of a glass blower doesn’t help all that much either. However, you do know you’re important and valued and everything in-between too, but when you’re the third friend on the pavement since you can remember – it’s all but a haze, smile and nod girl; smile and nod.

Oh, I almost forgot I never told you what I read, did I? It’s a rather mainstream quote, “No one is busy in this world. It’s all about priorities” why is it becoming more relevant as the days pass by? Simply for the fact that we always make time for things that are important – so now you know. You know the drill – it’s all good, so smile and nod.

Splashed browns

His eyes stared at the glare of the laptop screen, his eye was colored a pastel brown – much like the sand as the last rays of the sun hit it, splashing browns around.

He sat there lost in thought, scrimmaging through the notebook, writing notes and letting a sigh out as the coffee grew colder and the wind a bit chillier.

She sat across from him, lost in his eyes and looking for words to describe them, describe the mellow sandy brow-ness of them – she wasn’t a fan of it, until now.


The room reeked of nicotine and caffeine, and she lay there bare-chested crying into his shirt — he is not coming back.

It’d now been more than just a week, she still ironed his clothes, the room still stank and she prettied the apartment too, but now things were different.

It’d been three weeks now, she’d often spray his smell to remind herself of the floral tones that were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise damp smell of the nicotine.

It’s week six, she finally opened the freezer, and stroked his face — it was still pale with that lip stain from her favourite coloured lipstick, if only she hadn’t lost her head that day.

The room still reeks of nicotine and caffeine, but one can smell the occasional floral undertones, that’s when you know know she’s missing him.

Dear diary,

It’s been a month into this year, and I think I have had enough with people and their words and expectations and everything in-between, I think I will let their actions talk, not the mouths – actions. You see, it’s a tragic thing to have expectations since they often lead to hoping about things, and hope is a dangerous game – one I would like to avoid.

Irrespective of who they are, I’d listen to actions since they’d be more truthful about your intentions with me – and I am tired of being rejected from everywhere and everyone. I’d nod with you, but I will believe your actions.

Actions, actions, and actions – that’s the way I think I will be going – since words might be a fools solace, and I am no fool

One would give you time and not get back? That’s alright something came up – I understand. One would make a plan only to cancel last minute? That’s alright something came up – I understand. One would say something and do something else? That’s alright something must have come up – I understand. Your actions speak, and it’s all good. So, if one day I stop caring and you’re offended – you should think about how you acted and not be appalled when I say it’s all good.

Sometimes, it’s better to put yourself first – let people know not to take you for granted, not to walk over you. So you let them be, and nod your head with a smile – it’s all good.

‘Actions speak louder than words’ — wise words to stick with and not hope, such a dreadful thing to do, hope!


He wore a yellow overcoat and stood there at the crossing looking at the world pass by. I couldn’t help but notice his mellow brown eyes, as they changed color with the sun – it was as if the brown wasn’t just brown it was a potpourri I never really noticed until then.

I almost dropped my coffee as I walked into the pole while looking at him from across the street — would this boy want to grab a coffee with me? I could stare into his eyes and hear him talk about how he saved his dog from a bully or helped his mother, just admire this boy with his yellow coat, black boots, and hazel eyes

Yellow overcoat, hazel eyes, a mellow laugh and a wicked smile add warmth to it, and what more could one want?

Stars on the ground

Even though she made you feel better like a million bucks she’s also the reason you’re always crying — worst, isn’t it?

Perhaps, she’ll burn out suddenly one day and you’d get rid of her. No, she won’t fade out, she’ll burn out. Now perhaps you won’t be crying always.

But stop a moment — shouldn’t her side of coin also be accounted? Yes, it was her fault, yes she never did enough, yes she fell short, yes made you think she doesn’t care for you, yes made you feel you don’t matter, yes she loves you – but wait does she?

Your love was star spangled, hers was just above the ground wasn’t it?

She’s changed and he just wants the old her back, and she’s not to come until she brings her the one he fell for back.

She’s going to do that, because she wants the boy in yellow overalls to herself.

Yellow overalls

What does an empty whiskey flask, an empty pack of cigarettes and a broken beat tell you? Does the melancholy of this concoction reek of a broken heart, does the reverting to her old self of a chimney be an answer to dealing the state of affairs.

Those things probably won’t bring him back, but nor would the weeping – the boy in yellow overalls walked out because of you. You make a drink and gulp it down and accept that there are two options either fight for it or let it consume it and let it become a memorial of memories.

As you light the last one for the time being – you realise even with all the negatives this is what you want. The boy in yellow overalls, the boy with the wicked smile, your sunshine

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