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Aazmaish
I hear them discussing Ramzaan, how enduring without food and water is a challenge. I contemplate, “My Ramzaan has already commenced.” She’s my food, my water. I spill to a friend, “These days are dragging on endlessly.” He remarks, “It’s an ‘Aazmaish,’ a damn test.” Best believe, I’m fucking good at tests. She’s my sustenance—…
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Rain
“I hate the rain,” she said. I chuckled, finding it amusing how contradictory it sounded, considering her touch feels like gentle raindrops on my face—like being at home, alone, in the rain. Her tiny fingers tapping on my forehead create a sensation as if lying beneath a giant cloud, with all the world’s rain falling…
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Reminders
I glance at random things in this house with whatever I have left in my eyes. Your possessions. My possessions. My rings. Your rings. Your room. That never-ending mess on your bed. I walk aimlessly in this house, hoping to not put my gaze on something that reminds me of you. That broken wooden strap…
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Protected: The Stabs
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Protected: Heartache
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.