I like to think that I made you up inside my head-much like Plath’s famous Mad Girl. So when the world turned the most beautiful shade of peach during sunset yesterday I knew that in some dusty bylanes of the old city, I met you as you came walking over the dry leaves that crushed under your new shoes. I sat under some nameless tree I think-looking for silkworms in the leaves. And just when I thought that I had made you up inside my head, you touched me-turning me into the most beautiful shade of peach. And we became a part of the dust the sun took away with itself.
I thought it’d be peach again today, but I realised I made that peach up too. So when the sunset turned blue today, I realised that you and I talk only with peach around. And on other days, I’m happy to have you inside my head.