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draw two curves.
tear in between.
rip apart.
let the paper shout.

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Distance is a long air
you have breathed out in sighs.

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sometimes -
the vacuum feels a lump.

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i will build cotton.
you bring guns and bullets.
shoot and make pores
in cotton.
those will be rooms,
and windows and doors.
you escape and i stay or
i escape and you stay.

you put cotton inside guns
and those guns below cotton.

one body. no gun. all cotton.
okay?

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Dear Santa uncle,
Gift me the pages on which my parents just signed, torn and burnt!
I know it will separate them.
And I can't live without them.

Yours lovingly,
Innocence Roy
Class 1
Roll No:26

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our eyes say - this air was not absence.

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maybe all i need is some water to play with.

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guilt and cement make walls.

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©Srijit

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