poetry of our everyday

poetry of our everyday

today isn't a special date on the calendar
just a day turned special with your thoughts.
almost like everyday.
between work and my musings
i see our clothes hang in the closet space
side by side all day long, touching each other.
making poetry of our everyday.

it’s been over seven years of us.
but wasn’t our love already age-old even when we'd just begun?

over these breadths,
i’ve learnt to write my letters to you in many forms
everyday, i season my love along with other spices,
exactly the way you like it and pour into your favourite dal.
every week, i spend hours ironing my words into your weekly laundry.

with our little girl forever flitting between us,
our togetherness has renewed.
we've begun to meet secretly all over the house like new lovers.

black still remains your favourite colour and mine, white.
we haven't really changed.
but i’ve quietly grown to love black
and i see my whites staining your heart and instagram handle.

there are still nights that throb
with our differences and heated arguments
but before the sun is back in the east,
we always return. to us.

we’ve traveled so many eons and landscapes together
hand in hand, skin to skin, soul to soul.
maybe we've really grown old.
or eternal.
how do you count?
when all that sparkles is on the inside.