And still drops of his dreams fall on her lap where he used to sleep. A realm of jumbled alphabets…. and some of them were sharp. They wounded her. Her lap bled.
‘I’ was an alphabet that pierced right into her veins, over and over again.
The Ritual Cleansing
He let his voice fly with the winds. She waited at the other end of the breeze to catch his words. Once again, to cover her nudity with his scattered words. It kept her warm.
Lately, the industries been breathing its fumes in the same air.
Lately, she has been taking his words to the laundry before she would put them on.
When Darkness Blinks 