Accept the apology you have been making to yourself. — Ask yourself the question enough times, And you will get the answer. Your skin will Split open like a sky that had forgotten how To rain, your body will be a metaphor for Every city that you passed through. Your Legs will tremble because you will realize You had never really stood up. Your eyes Will water…

What happens when death starts feeling like the solution? — A raindrop turns into rain Only with death on its mind. I no longer know what to do With the body I have been given. How many times does a man Pray before he picks up the knife? Before he becomes the knife? There is a point after which worn- Out shoes cannot be repaired, a Point after which…

Thinking about someone forever warm. Ringing of the phone. A beep that resounds defeat. The call goes to voice messages. “Um…hey. Are you alright? [A pause] That’s fine. I understand. The ticking of the clock feels like sandpaper against your tongue, doesn’t it? Hmm. I’ve been laughing a lot at…

about the pain of loneliness and hope. wait for the clouds to fall, my child. everything beautiful took a long time to grasp at existence. if you stare at a canvas long enough it almost becomes the painting. look, look at this diamond. child, do you know how many years this took? stare at your own skin and think that love is already there. do not ask me how to deal with loneliness. how could i…

400-word story about the loneliness of old age Note: “Dadi” means “paternal grandmother” in Hindi In her last few days, Dadi bought a pet parrot. She would continuously try to teach it to talk, saying that this way, she would never feel lonely. …

A son writes a nostalgic letter to his father. Dear Father, I wanted to start this letter with “How have you been?” But I already know that you haven’t been well. And I’ll spare you the chance to think about how I have been — I haven’t been well either. …

Magical Realism in 500 words First, there was the fire. Then there was the love. He never knew which harmed him more. His mother always said that his scars were due to the fire, at which point the agony caused by the orange, licking flames would flash before him. But…

A poem. A rant. Call it what you want. — Mother, stop talking. Haven’t you Realized that the nightingale isn’t Singing anymore? Wings stopped Becoming a metaphor when we Found out about poverty and hair fall. Something always feels just a little bit Wrong. The difference between wanting To die and wanting to live is how much Your head loves the pillow. I am friends With the moon without…

Short prose poem about dreams and death. There is something about the pain of longing which you can’t spell out. Like the times when your mouth tastes of salt and you can’t tell why. You will ask yourself a question…no, many questions. The bells will continue to toll as the…