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Bharath Nandibhatla
3 JUN 2017 AT 23:44

I remember going with you,
to that bangle factory.
All dark and lifeless.
You'd make bangles with clay,
mould them into such perfect circles.

You never knew what
a circle meant, though.
Yet, you made sure I knew.

If I look back at it now,
You dealt mostly with circles.
Bangles at the factory, zeroes at home,
dark circles from those sleepless nights,
all of them, perfect circles.

So much for losing that one red circle,
between your brows, Sindhoor,
as they call it.
That one circle that counts,
for a woman, as they say it.
But, is it? Is it, really?

You made bangles all day,
but you'd never wear them.
And to top all of it,
you had me, a mess of a child.

You were a single mother.
I was a single child.
You made bangles.
You never broke them.
I made promises.
I'd never have broken them.

But you chose to leave,
to meet my father.

I had promises to keep,
but you chose to sleep.

- Landlocked Sailor

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