The flickering of a flame,
like the waves of light,
smelling of turpentine,
like the shrills of the night.
It’s important to wear your wounds,
the cuts, the bruises, the blood
resembling the pain, the trauma,
of the lost loves, the soothing blues.
Be a bearer of your harm,
proud of your masochism,
reverence for your resilience,
and let yourself feel warm.
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Ankita is a middle-class Bengali woman whose eyelids are painted with yet-to-be fulfilled dreams. An avowed reader, she only wants to learn and write in life.
