lonesome dreams glowing through the moistened cinders of a monsoon pyre (Haiku#1)
One night I left the jar; the one with a miasma from mold growth, besides the wash basin for the next dawn to arrive when I would have definitely washed it. The dawn never arrived and I didn’t wash it. Someone did after four and half months. Maybe my mother on one of her visits... Continue Reading →
I think we failed to tell us something Something that should have made space Betwixt the silences And yet unbound quietly; come and go Without imprints, without stabbing. But forced silences do not leave space They are louder than words, They stab until I am no more you and you me.