Poetry is a tar drum
hollowed out and injected with
treacle.
How typical of me. Trying to get over one man by lavishing attention on another.
~Me to the BFF, as I babysat Ghattu while the Boy worked late one night.
Roses given after a fight do not count.
Reset to previous date of gifting.
[Rule 1.1. Acquire man who goes along with rule #1]
First break-ups are particularly traumatic.
After that, it’s a matter of practiced pain.
~Me to Aunty G, during an online conversation
Oh Mad Mommaaaaa, I’m by the phone!!
Q: So what if you can’t stop the tears?
A: Locate the nearest salon and get something, anything on your face threaded. That’s justification enough for overflowing eyes.
My path to creativity lies in the no man’s land that is post-tears exhaustion, proximity to a keyboard and permission to hit the snooze button more than thrice the next morning.
Q: So what do you do not to cry?
A: I guzzle a litre of chilled water, then I have to urgently pee and the water comes out the other end.
Sometimes the hardest challenge in a relationship is the ex who spoiled you silly.
Everything is easier said than done.
Eating glazed donuts, however, is the exception.
Vox populi