Fade.

Its easy to fall away from the margins. Easier still when you know that the only thing that ever held you back from the corners was simply you. Things fade when no one gives a shit about them. And when its eleven, I'll let it lie.

But ghosts breathe too, you know. And the palest of them is flesh enough to haunt.

Maybe someday you'll learn what I know. I'll see you then. When we'll both be crawling on the floor.

Goodbye.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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