To Her,

… Please don’t ask me about my sadness. Or my anger. They exist together, and sometimes, they are just the same.

Please don’t ask me about my sadness. Or my anger. They are just the same. Please, ask me to stop writing these sad notes. My fingers have forgotten to write happy stories. The fingers only linger on the letters that will form a sad word that will hurt the heart, splitting it wide open and making you stand vulnerable in front of vultures. 

Please take my palms in your hands, and close the fingers forming a fist and open them again. Keep it on until you see my anger slipping off the tips of my fingernails. But if my hands are already tightened into a fist and I’m punching at the walls don’t try knocking on my walls just sit and stay with me. Look at me and smile and tell me to smile. Please when I want to cry and tears abandon me, come a little closer and let your hands cup my unshaved face, smile and tell me It’s okay if you do not have tears. Some cries are dry as desert but it doesn’t mean they don’t hold value. Please when I tell you to leave me don’t when I hold the door for you shut it close and have both of us locked in the room.

Please stay until you decide to let go.

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To Her,

… Please don’t ask me about my sadness. Or my anger. 

 They exist together, and sometimes, they are just the same…

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Hi! I am Manik Chopra. I am a BCA graduate and presently working as a freelance content writer. I love writing fictional stories and poetries. I might be the writer, But you will always be the words.

Email – manikchopraonline@gmail.com

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/manikchopra0803

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