Writing is my escape.
Not everything I write is real.
Not everything I write is imagination.
Quietness has a creepy way of making us feel lonelier than we are. But this wine glass was truly alone tonight. No other kinds were in the sink that was once full of day-long dirty dishes. If it accidentally loses balance and falls, it might not break completely but will feel the cracks of loneliness.…
Watching the rain, I am often time-tunneled to my childhood. With monsoons being a big season where I grew up, rain showers will always have that affect on me; I understand that now. So below are a few lines, thinking of those memories.
Crumbled and faded, Sheets of words, Lay by the feet, Mocking imagination Because sometimes, Working hard isn’t enough. Fractured and bruised, Screams in the air, Stuck in a loop. Because sometimes, Patience isn’t enough. Broken and disfigured, Bloodied by loss, Abandoned for love, Because sometimes, Time heals no one.