By Anisha Gupta
You see the black clouds outside your window,
Talking to your heavy eyes, ready to pour anytime.
The twenty-four beaded carnelian bracelet sits on the nightstand like coral planets deciding my trajectory- one bead at a time, until my finger lands on the
milky-orangish pearl where I finally hum to my life's happy song.
Some popcorn sprinkled around just like craters diffused on the moon. And I eat them just as I unite them, flaws, into me, never to worry even if they pelt stones, I'm already one with me.
Silk-bonnet on, as I sleep to peace, the plushies with me sink deep into serene. Rejoice my dear and have a soulful end of the line.
By Anisha Gupta
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