Sunlight enters a broken window. 

​I went about my day monotonously, concentrating on dusting the areas that are rarely cleaned. Reaching up on my toes, I finished dusting the last web off the kitchen cabinet. 

“You don’t really have to do this. We have helpers in here, Stella.” He said in his usual soft tone, but I couldn’t help but let out a frightened gasp. As I turned to look up at him, he eyed me worriedly.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed.
This was becoming very common in this house. Him trying to talk and me freaking out. I bowed my head down. He tried lifting my chin up, but I quickly backed away from him.
Another sigh fills the kitchen.
“I just wanted to inform you that I have to leave for a business meeting tonight. I will be back in a couple of days. Do you want me to get you something?”
Confusion filled my head.
“No, thank you. ” I mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept staring at the empty couch, missing his tall figure sleeping there uncomfortably yet peacefully. I always envied the peace on his face, but it miraculously put me to sleep.

It’s been five days. And five sleepless nights. He isn’t back yet. A rare emotion filled my chest, worry gnawed my entire being. His couch being my only comfort. I climbed onto it and waited. I just wanted him to be safe.

A knock at the door and in he entered. Something got over me, I leapt in joy towards him, tears brimming my eyes. He looked exhausted and beautiful. His eyes filled with concern.
“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” He enquired, looking me over.
“It took you longer than you said. ” I mumbled in pain.
“I did leave you a message. Our company had to deal with a huge loss caused by a trusted employee. He leaked our ideas to our rivals.” He continued giving me an insight, but I wasn’t listening. I was busy making sure that he’s still here.

“I’m not used to this.” I started, with my head low. I took a breath and continued.
“I’m not used to being treated like an equal, or like a human. ” My heart trembled, waking up from all the abusing. It begged me not to scar it more. Can I trust my supposedly other half?
“Every time you treat me like I mean something, it scares me. Because you’re not like them and I’m used to them.” I clenched my eyes shut. His calloused thumb wiped away the stray tears, this time, I let him.

“Then, get used to it. You deserve nothing less. Whatever has happened in the past, I don’t care about it. Tell me when you’re ready or don’t tell me at all. It’s your choice. 

But, do try to accept me. ” He whispered softly, holding my face. I looked up to see his teary eyes, filled with emotions that I’ve never seen or recieved. Love and respect.
I sobbed and pressed my cheeks into his hands.

Even though my natural instinct is to run away from any human emotion, I want to fight my urge and stay for you. ” 


Palpable fear. 

A palpable sense of fear,
Her heart in a vice like grip.
Can’t afford pushing it,
In a dark pit, so willingly.

A palpable sense of fear,
He, as benign as ever.
Seemed hazardous, now,
For her poor tattered soul.

A palpable sense of fear,
He, a melody, if listened often to,
Will be the only music,
She’d ever want to hear.

A palpable sense of fear,
Fear of falling in love.
Thousands of artworks,
Yet, no one found a cure.

And there goes, another art in its name.
“Found a cure?” whispered the ailing.
Sighed in defeat, yet again.

A love that withered.

Never in a thosand years,
A love like ours bloomed.
You were the truth.
I, a hidden lie.
You were born to ruin me.

Never in a thousand years,
A love like ours bloomed.
You were an extinguisher,
I, a burning fire.
You were born to end me.

Never in a thousand years,
A love like ours bloomed.
You were an antidote,
I, a deadly poison.
You were born to kill me.

Never in a thousand years,
A love like ours bloomed.
You were a rose.
I, a mere thorn.
I was born to love you.

Never in a thousand years,
A love like ours…withered.

The urge.

The urge is real,
To protect you, comfort you.
And my fingers itch,
To take your heart out,
Tend to it, heal it,
And conceal it back.
A cage, with emotions
Trapped in, nowhere to be seen.

The urge is real.
No rights, I have, I know.
Your soul, a bright white light.
Just not the white you picture.
Your words, they ask me to run.
Funny how, when you’re around,
All my instincts, go into slumber.

The urge is real.
But, not to run. Never to run.
Just the urge to shield you,
From everything that you’re not.
But, think you are.
A soul, as white as heaven.
Just a little stained.
And now, calls itself a demon?

The urge is real,
To make you see,
Your white wings,
With beautiful black stains,
A sight to behold.
You are more white than black.
Wish you’d understand,
A pure soul, you were. You still are. 


I stood alone in the empty room, my only companion being the black crayon that I managed to possess. 

I held it with trembing hands, almost nothing was left of the girl that was dragged here.

All I could do was pour out incoherent words onto the plain white wall.

For, my love was mistaken as madness. And, I was caged in an asylum.

A souvenir.

He shrivelled at the doorstep. Like he did, every night. The rainy weather outside meant nothing to him. Not anymore. It had become a tiresome routine for him. Going out to forget.

But, the alcohol in his veins couldn’t falter her beautiful smile that was forever etched into his memory.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeves and unlocked the house. He made a silent prayer to God, with whatever faith he was left with. He could not bear the thought of facing her tonight.

With tiny and unstable steps, he head to the kitchen. Instinctively, his hand reached for his bittersweet escape, the brown knife.

The cold metal felt home in his hands. He had to do it. Pain was the only thing that kept him sane.

As he reached out to scar himself, a tiny palm held on to his leg. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. He was stunned because as far as his fazed thoughts went, he had made sure to instill enough fear in her heart. He had done it to save her from himself, ofcourse. Not that it mattered.

“Please..don’t draw on your body. They say it pains.”, Her angelic voice stuttered.

He continued to stare. “I swear, I’ you a sketch book, Daddy. ” She said, the tears were flowing again.

He dropped the metal first and then, fell to his knees. It was too much for him. Reluctantly, he wiped her tears off. She smiled at him affectionately. Her beautiful smile was so familiar.

After ages, he was sober enough to hold onto the only thing he had. His daughter.  A souvenir of his dead love.