Mugs

By Kenisha Kapur

Now my mind is a tangled mass of thread, waiting to be picked up and gently untwined by

someone. These days, I’ve focused far too much energy in arranging my mugs, because at

least those can be organized. First by color, then by size, then by their sentimental value.

They hold memories I don’t wish to dwell upon. So, I throw them out - each one. Only when

the last one hits the trash, does the realization hit me, that I still drink strong, bitter coffee to

remind myself of the way I once loved rain on the pavement, and you. Early Wednesday

mornings hurt too. Though early mornings used to be my favourite once upon a time. And

once upon a time, I had believed, with all the passion in my heart, that my life would be one

filled with tulip gardens. Now my heart just aches, when I have nothing to break and no one

to love. So, I sit with my mind - a tangled mass of thread, and pretend I don’t miss arranging

my mugs, in the very same way that you did.

By Kenisha Kapur