Mist
In the air,
Thinning out
As it travels
Inside your soul.
You let it out,
Too soon.
You don't
Let it affect
The words
Your lungs breathe.
You float
For some seconds,
Ephemeral.
Later,
You sink in,
You let yourself drown.
Mist
In the air.
Now you're one.
The air outside.
The air inside.
You're the mist you breathe.
In every breath
You take
It is his name.
He says
The air that infuses
And permeates your soul.
You're the mist
Who lost its identity.
You're the mist
You breathed in.
It was either for the scorching sunrise that hurt her eyes or the cold breeze that blew scratching the fresh wounds on her arms, but Disha could tell that her friend had tears in her eyes for some reason or the other. “Nothing,” Razia said, when confronted by Disha, hiding her eyes as she wiped her tears with her hands. “Got paid?” Disha enquired. “Yes.” Lied Razia while walking towards the place she has been calling home from the past couple of years. She headed for the bathroom as she entered her room where two girls were sitting, one smoking a cigarette while the other wearing make-up in front of the broken mirror in the room. Razia cleaned her skirt that was smeared with her blood. She wasn’t prepared for it. After all it was that 14- year old’s first time. Not the first time that she had been “ridden” by men, nor the first time that she bled while bearing the intolerable pain the men gave her, but for the first time that she painlessly bled indicating a cycle o...
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