http://slow.writerscafe.org/arunaiyer88 The original writings of author Aruna Iyer en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776349501 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 When I’m the happiest most, I think of you And wonder if it’s wrong to feel these routinepleasures When you, in some desert, are a solitary nomad Treading through changes in the dunes  That are beyond your comprehension A.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1073099/ I caught the foot he raised in abuseAnd quoted Shelley: Can man be free,If the woman be a slave?I told him he was the subversion ofMy slavery.The child born to his mother,Another slave.And the child of another mother,Another slave. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1073098/ Clad in my wedding finery,Drenched in the body’s perfumed infidelity,Striped by dreams and hopes struck down by others,Illuminated by the misery of light from beneath selfish depths,Coloured by the shame and refuse of a million years,I lie in wait for youAnd with open arms, I hope To embr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1069133/ My mouth stinks of your violationWhich no amount of mint,Shall mellowI smell it every time I swallowI remember it withEvery unspoken curseI am weaker in strength, andMay not protest too wellBut you will always be a vandelNever, the loved one. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1069131/ Light, fills our days with pretentious innocence. The colour in everything earthly is but Light in costume. But there would be no Light, were there no nights of the pitch Black. The nights are ideas Black inspires- dark, if feared, mysterious if questioned, imperious if wished, but beautiful if love.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1066559/ There were always two of themMen, tongues and two large arousalsI was the two-timer: sometimes physicallyMany times mentallySometimes I let their hands multiply Their roused bars divideAnd sometimes it was one in bedAnd another in headSeveral fights broke out betweenSkin, fingers, teeth and the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1065368/ Aparasite, I know no shameIt’swho I am….destined toAlife of emotional beggaryIcling on to you, your soul andYourwords…Isuffer the time you take toLetme in. To let me be.Iwait with feigned patienceForsustenance.Iwant to leave.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1063873/ A tumour grows today,In the place where you grew…There will be more blood,Than which I fed you…Will your hands,Fully formed todayWipe the stains away,I asked.No, you sentenced me to be carried awayThrough the gutter’s lengthIn the backyard of my daughter’s house.You stole f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1063849/ August, 1888.Death is a busyaffair. Tears get wiped away in haste, last respects are laid to rest at coldfeet and the idea of a smile is forgotten. That day, I was the wife who hadlost everything in life. I was pitiable. I should have wailed and beendistraught. The last time I would see .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1063821/ Of heat that melts gold in the noonAnd rain that moves theEarth below at nightOf a rainy sunshine when theCrows and mynasLose their mind in sacred matrimonyOf the power within unformed wordsA closed fist, an open smileAnd a shuttered heartOf love for what is not yoursHate gifted in return for anothe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/arunaiyer88/1060532/