by Neesa Suncheuri
She followed me with bravery in her heart,
Without realizing my lack of interest.
The deformed web of thoughts in her mind
Obscured her understanding of,
Politeness and Reality.
Would it ever happen, that I would see more
Than what the sun illuminates when it rises?
And what is behind that horizon…
Whereto does the vanishing point lead?
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide.
My heart is warm. At least, it’s warmer than your heart. How do I know? Because every time I hold your hand, it feels warm. Maybe that doesn’t make sense. But I once heard someone say, “cold hands, warm heart.” So I can only guess that warm-handed people are cold-hearted.