KUMKUMAM

                                      Waking up from that quick thirty-minute nap which lasted for three hours straight was terribly terrible. It was good afternoon, and now it's not-so-good-evening, because Mom just hit me with ‘wash the dishes’. Well, I wasn’t ready for that order but I know I have no say in this, because no one defies the queen (unless you want yourself beheaded). Taking a glimpse of these plates feels like I’m about to spend at least 30 minutes struggling with liquid soap and strangling that spongy scrubber. Like every other girl, I tied my hair up, put on my earphones and got ready like its ‘do or die’. Dishwashing is not that simple. It’s clearly an art. And I would proudly admit that I’m an artist in that way, who nearly fails every single time. For cleaning the kitchenware, one needs to understand the psychology of these food vessels. Let me be honest, I have see...

Delving fog ,  again and again More and more, to find nothing Scattered dreams As I'm broken I want to bloom , I want to sink I want to smile  I want to hurt  Your smile hurts, I'm not you. Scared of hopes Scared of you. Afraid to dream Afraid to live. And I rise above  Eyes gleam, Tears ? maybe not Pearl chompers? Mine! Did that hurt? ©SILPA

Broken, shattered, tearing apart I wish you were here, to hold me tight, to hear me out, to lend me your shoulder. But you were not here,  anywhere near... I've asked "WHY?" My thoughts are tangled, Still I've got answers. Maybe, you're Lost! Someone locked you up. Maybe, you're Scared! Someone is shouting at you. Maybe, you're Hurt! Someone broke your trust. I wish I were there ,to tell  "You are me and I am you"                                          ©SILPA