Salutations, paper. It has been a while. State of liquid, Viscous and greasy — It spills, it flows Unmotivated, stealthily. State of solid, Grains of sand — Sometimes clumped together And then scattered into a million. Then comes the smoke creeping up the scaffolding Around the facade — Haze incessantly haunts. My states of being lately, The best I could explain. Sometimes spread too thin Till holes emerge, And sometimes a thick lump, The one at the back of the throat When you fight back tears The heart: It is a sphere of glass Dropped several times. It wouldn’t crack apart. But every time, slowly chips away With every little heartbreak. The facade: it stands held in place by the scaffolding. And the smoke — A tad eerie touch. You can only fan it away Till it forms a thick cloud again. A joint might come undone — The worry never wanes. But how would you know If and when it all quietly unravels?