Forlorn

For life comes to end, not love

Once, I remember, this room to be frequented by men, tall and bearded or dark and loud, at nights pleasuring mother, three of whom fathered the elder, the younger and me - siblings out of distinguished paternal genes. They all left, not soon but duly including the last of the bloodline. Decades more than then, I have stayed here with few infrequent visitors whom I feel and don't see. Loneliness do not bore me no more, concerning is the nervous vengeance that holds me across the side wall, dripping blood and gradually losing the innocence of my wounds.

Author's Note

Whatever you wish to say

Reviews

[Avinash]

I read between the lines here. It is a search of identity. Trying to find the self because it does agree with what society calls as normal but what needs to be discovered is truth. Sometimes truth is worth a million heartbreaks and its worth it. Because only that can set you free. A brilliant piece of writing.

[Dipanjan Dutta]

Thanks Avinash for such a detailed review...indeed its a search for identity...between the truth and the false...or between the living and the dead...

[Ruth]

I love the prose like quality here, a wandering/wondering...inevitable search for some...potent writing, enjoyed xo

[Dipanjan Dutta]

Thanks Poppy...its an honor

[priya]

your writing style is very appealing to me..i loved this piece a lot...it has so many dimensions, so much to interpret, so much to ponder about.. really amazing..

[suchitra sarmah]

Decades more than
then, I have stayed here with few
infrequent visitors whom I feel and
don't see. good work,keep it up

[Dipanjan Dutta]

Thanks Suchitra for your review