The obscure chronology of an excuse in the name of love that I see now as forgetfulness is the hatred to the other. Firstly, she cheated on me and sent messages that I should know she loves me so much But does not like to copulate with me. I, like a fool, accepted it, soothed that tortured soul of the moment. She thanked me and went on hiding secrets with occasional outbursts about honesty. Then she comes and tells that she loves someone, and I am like family. She is not an orphan and desiring family is incest.

A Hand Holds the other to feel the quietude and dissolve in it. It doesn’t talk, but stays underneath. when a strong wind blows, we know the rains are coming to welcome us with watery arms into the bosom of a lovely land where we are a bridge to the sky where we forget all about the dampness of the four walls. Now we are again bound by the thought of love and being loved