Her silent tears
Fell on a cold blanket.
The shivers within were mutely contained
The soothing hand that was no more present
Loomed in the yellow shadow of a glass window
Ever present, ever elusive
Flimsy, broken, continuous
Like her endless tear-bubbles.
Copyright © 2015 Arpita Pramanick
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About Arpita
Arpita Pramanick is a little, young woman with a bright face (who'd rather not look directly into a stranger's eye) you'll find walking on the corridors of Mu Sigma, Inc. She tells herself she wants to be a properly published writer (by which she means she wants to be published from the likes of Penguin), but isn't really so sincere about writing everyday. So if you see her, tell her to go write.
She'll love you for doing that!
