Akin to the gossamers my eyes kept hallucinating oodles of fibrous dreams . Phobic beats of my heart kept in the coffer besides my grandma's anklets. Those silver colored anklets tells a heart rending story. When whistling clouds cried out money and diamonds on her swaying body and those inappropriate touches on her cold skin lust , desire and the utmost nympholepsy weigh the shoulders of men. To respect all my dreams and wishes she gave away the cobwebs of wisdom once tucked in her hair and the springlike heavens used to be under her feet which then changed their steps clad within those silver anklets in a second to please her own-likes from being the protector to predator.
Today after 4 years, When I bleached her room with sun rays and sprinkled dried rose petals everywhere. I found her diary.
Monsoon'76th Dear diary,
"Something was strange today. The cold breeze brushing past my face had numbed my senses and the scent of a distant lover unsettled my inner storm. The floor beneath my feet seemed like mangata of my shattered poems. I think today even nature is perturbed with me
I swallowed conjunctions and rhymes every night to murder the burgeoning poet inside me, unwillingly
Once called the lady of the night I can't maintain peace with the erupted poems mourning my life
I destroyed the actual image of a poet' in the society 'Mademoiselle, respect literature if not yourself'
My mind wreathed with thoughts, scenarios, pain and anguish but my filthy soul don't deserve to pick my quill
I used to bleed out verity and justice now I'm in the chasm of caterwauling lust and cage of lunatic homosapiens"
Reading this cut my tongue and all the grudges towards her rinsed off from my heart.