No words for blood moon

(Photograph by Shantam Sahai)

From a railing where tear drops used to vaporize, I find myself under a sky full of stars. My emptiness (maybe) is a disguise of denial. Acceptance but denial, of facts.

I always used to question myself if I am in a reality that exists, I used to question you too. Maybe you were an illusion because you do not seem to be any answer to any of my questions.

You simply prove be that one cigarette which causes cancer, and proves every smoking causes cancer commercial right.

(The river that flows in your womb is not my scarlet, it is your crimson. But I do not detest you as a broken bottle of my blood. I have just started to consider you as an empty bottle of alcohol.

Since you were shameful enough to make love with a neighbor at our dusk, I am grateful to write to you at dawn. I promise, I will be gone before you wake up.)

An unrealistic dream, which turned out to be a nightmare. I call you nothing more, nothing less.

However, you need to know my love for you and my family was the only truth of my life. You need to know that your blood-stained stained streets are not my sins and Ive tried my best to wipe them up. I was somewhere aware of your rotten flesh, but I chose to trust your spirit.

It is such a disgrace for you to part. But unlike you, I am sorry for any inconvenience caused.

– India to Kashmir

A lover to another lover

By Shantam Sahai

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