Tangerine

When she got married, her mother spent sleepless nights. Oblivion engulfed her mornings, tea went cold each time, cups were returned to the kitchen counter, unbelievably from a tea-addict like her. ♥ Her favorite dishes, sweet and sour, left untouched for hours, begged to be devoured. Morsels cut down to halves, chewed painfully longer, without…

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When a writer bleeds

her world shrinks as faces cease to exist days lack brightness nights miss the glow walks become rambles blank are the thoughts no place is desirable just she and herself behind shut doors are windows closed and the solitary corner beckoning her not a speck of light in the gloomy room except a flickering lamp at…

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