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September 2015

Ice Cube

You let me go. Your trembling hands loosen the grip. I slip between your fingers. I kiss the air, ecstatic. My chill sublimes into nothingness. Death seems just so beautiful.

Sleep

There was something utterly serene about watching him sleep. I could do that for hours together. Since he was not much of a happy man and my eyes had to

Losing, Not Yet Lost

I go for walks at midnight, watching as the sleet falls silently – silver strands of frozen air. I make three rounds of the block, with an eye out for

Warrior, Not a Bride

I turned and twisted lying on my bed late in the night. Mother sleep was far away from my sight. The mattress seemed to be full of thorns and spikes;