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Showing posts from April, 2020

Cut and Bled

I was incessantly looking at the scabs on my elbow when, all of a sudden, a few images of my recent past flashed in front of my eyes. The images were vivid; it felt like yesterday although it happened yesterday. I could smell those pictures; I saw blood on my elbow dripping onto a white cotton carpet sluggishly. I had punctured my elbow with my sister’s divider. She hated that thing, for she didn’t know how to use it. I counted the wounds; I had struck myself five times. Now the wounds were healing, and I felt like itching one. Impatiently, I scratched off one scab; the skin got ruptured, and a little drop of blood emerged from the wound. Just like the stained white cotton carpet, pages on my table are stained with my thoughts. Without an opening, I couldn’t have stained the white carpet, and it’d have remained white except being a comfortable place for dust and mites. Likewise, the scattered pages on my table need to be stained. Without a cut, I can’t stain those premium white pages t...

find me

i’m between the page numbers 71 and 72 of the poetry book where you hid the red rose from your hot-headed brothers. funny, they never liked me. i’m the love letter that your mother torn into pieces. taping the torn pieces together, you kept it under your pillow. that night, you cried a lot, reading the taped page again and again. i was broken when I shattered the snow globe which you gave me on my 23rd birthday. i didn’t like you talking with other guys. i’m on the rusty bench of the park where you slapped me gently for not caring about us. i’m sorry for taking you for granted. i’m a soft kiss on your forehead that your lover gives you every night. i asked him not to break your heart as i did. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya