you came back
to say monsoon was almost over.
coffees and teas
were done
the sidewalks
had been exhausted
with conversations
and i had forgotten
to flip the calendar.
on a rain-spilled morning like this,
i dreamt you'd come back
and could not stay.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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on what life meant to make out of faith
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Mamu touched my hair the other day and said: This is not the hair of the girl I birthed. What did you do to your hair? I touched my hair, im... -
i cannot imagine how you put up with a man who drags you by your nape and tells you to go to your room and puts you out in the night. it...
whatever i say can never amount to how much you touch me with your poetry. this is where words fail me.
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thank you for finding sense in my incoherent thoughts, Pranaya
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