Sunday.
May 13, 2018
You see, Sunday is not your any other regular day. Sundays are special. Sundays have their own beauty. Sundays feel like freshly cut grass, like the cool breeze of air you felt on a cozy morning on a vacation near the cold river. Sundays feel like the dreamy train to Hogwarts, the far away land of magic. It is the designated 'park day' with the slides and all the rides and the joy we felt inside.Sunday is the most warm and comfy day. Some might say it's even better than a birthday. (That someone is me). Sunday means sleeping in a little while more. It means the unusually long and soothing baths. It's like scented candles, warm blankets, and movie with your loved one. One of you falling asleep, all cuddled up, even before the movie is over. It's like the first cup of coffee of your day, or smelling the pages of a new book. It's like you and your friend talking about anything and absolutely everything with utter nonsense as a side dressing. It's like reading your favorite book for the seventh time, going over the same lines, and still feeling anew. It's like the sea breeze. Enchanting.I want Sunday to be a human, my precise lover. Make me feel like even if everything isn't perfectly harmonised and the world isn't at peace, I still have this day. The best day. Like amidst all this chaos, I'll still somehow be at peace. Be my feeling of Sunday. The 'all of the above' option to my silly questions. And although this feeling lasts only for a while and you aren't mine yet, I always feel fresh, full, at peace when I think about you. The feeling I can't describe. But a Sunday definitely can. Be my Sunday.
May 13, 2018.
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