Chaotic Idiotic Love

To ink a muse is in itself a muse. And as I write this piece, I gaze at street bustling with lovers, lost not in each other, but in the chaos of vacillation. Here’s a super short story on this lucubration. 

 It’s a crowd where a million lost souls are searching for their mates. A second back, that one on the left corner of the street caught a glimpse of his other half (or he at least thinks so).

Here, on the lamp post, two love birds are singing for each other.Their pounding gives their song a rhythm. In a confused world, they seem to be the only ones sure of their choice.

A dismal and lost girl awaits her second chance at love. She has a confused gaze. She’s thought someone else’s shot to be hers. And now she’s wondering who is playing her sling at the game.

I know what’s crossing her mind. I know she’s wondering how many of the love-struck people are with the ‘owned’ but not ‘belonged’. What if all of us are wide of the mark? Would the reaction be something like – Oh! I think I picked the wrong one?

Imagine the chaos if it happens with everyone at the same time. That girl on the street could get a second chance; she could get more than a second chance. And the love birds near the lamp post? Well, they’d either find a way or fly away…to be together always.

Shivangi

Shivangi

Some girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. Others, like me, are red haired, raw, and quite plus sized. Read my work on food and fashion on this blog.
Shivangi
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