So, it’s over

So, it’s over.

The mess of her tangled hair that used to hover over your fingers, teasing every single muscle in your palm.

The linen sheets now smell of a common detergent and of your tears, instead of her lavender shampoo and mysterious perfume.

The songs you used to love are now left unplayed, and you hate those movies you used to watch with her, arm in arm.

You take different routes to your regular places, and you order all the things she used to dislike at your favorite restaurant.


Who are you getting back at, dear human? Whom are you actually torturing?
You keep reminding yourself of memories that are an encryption in the pages of the past, and you keep drowning the present till it is nothing more than the base of your second last bottle.

You are destroying yourself slowly in the poisonous, self consuming moments of your first dance with her and the first kiss you planted on her lips.


Get up, and start sledging your body across, now.
It’s not late, but it is time.

Take baby steps and start arranging your parts in such a way that they reflect you, not her or both of you.


You are a person and you comprise of a whole self worth.

You’ll find someone who loves you for you, and will stay no matter what, but not if you keep your legs dangling in the torn pages of history that ought to be turned into ashes by now.

For now, start by caressing your soul and loving each cell of yourself.

The nights will help and the days will heal, only when you decide your mind is the Emperor, not a mere warrior.


by Oshee Johri // Featuring artwork from Janelle Rainer // Feature image by Aubrey Llamas


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