©2019 by Halfway To Asphodel.

  • Vishvaraj Chauhan

To Her Ravaging Memoirs

I make into my quietude, and try to break the impasse with my heart. ‘Is this a night, or I am merely shrouded beneath her hair? Is this a mere gust of wind or the smells of her? Are these mere chitterings of birds or they carry her message?’ I ask, peaceful and sagely. Even though I know that it’s not her, but this wretched heart is obstinate. ‘She’s here,‘ it beats. ‘Here somewhere.

. . .

Read more at: The Best Of Halfway To Asphodel: 2015-2017!


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