Unspoken Sundays

Sunday again.

No, It's not a special one.

At least not today.

It's dark now

But It's fine.

It's empty in the shells,

But It's stronger outside      

So, what if the words turn numb for a while,

For hours

For days

For weeks

Maybe for months?

I would smile just the way I am smiling right now.

Sunday hopes are bitter, I get it.

Sunday chills are less electric, I cope up with it.

Sunday meetings are scratched off the list,

Yes, I know.

Yes, I am still in love

But this time I am less mad.

Less happy.