(5) Questions

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Picture courtesy: Ankita Dhiman

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My lips are red, I just painted them.
My hands are laden with the many bracelets I could find.
My hair feels out of place; I feel like an octopus and I just can’t tame my tentacles.

I saw few people die on the screen,
it was supposed to be scary, but all I did was laugh.

That’s not why I am here. That’s not why I am writing these words that I know might take me nowhere.
There is a moment of doubt, hesitation, discomfort;
my feet curl up, I try to not pick my nails…

I was very much alive, when you started to talk about death.
I haven’t lost many, but this topic makes me so wary.
I am listening to the song you sent me, I have never heard of it; but it’s good.
I like the other one too; actually I like the other one more.
Death… one of the words I can remember after our last conversation.
Time stands still when we talk, but when it’s about losing the one you love,
it flies away, resisting to be caught.
I don’t know what happens when we die, I haven’t crossed that bridge yet; though somedays I wish I had.
Do we really cease to exist? That alone makes me want to cry and throw up.
Or do we turn into matter, unseen to the eye, but present all around?

You have left me wondering; can we really be so complicated?
I believe we go to heaven, but you made it sound like I was asking for champagne with pancakes after dinner.

I am not angry; I am just confused,
I am left with questions, when all I wanted was some fairy dust to make our moment special.

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