Randomness of Night


Have you ever read a poem
Without rhyme?
Have you ever smelt a flower
Without fragrance?
Have you ever looked out a glass window
And saw nothing but black?
Then how could you meet a person
who has no feelings?


Her legs stumbled
And her eyes couldn’t
focus on the road ahead.

Her head felt heavy
and light
At the same time.

For people passing by
she acted perfectly sober.
Because there were none passing.
So she zig-zagged through the way,
Stopped for a moment,
Stretched her eyes and thought
‘Just a few steps more’

Somehow, she had to reach
She wasn’t testing her limit
Why was she out?
At such hour of the night?

There was a phone call.
And she made a promise
To be there.
To give company.

She would’ve chosen
To get a slumber sleep
But even she didn’t know
She was in love.


She took a sip of tea
And poured the rest in the bushes.
And it was not because
she didn’t like the tea.
But maybe because she was angry?
At something,
Or someone?


One evening
She stood by the sidewalk
Scrolling on her phone.
Then a group startled her
The phone slid
And broke the glass.

Later she thought
If only I hadn’t been here
To meet him
My dear phone would’ve been


The story is incomplete
So are these lines.
Every line.
Except the one at the end.

The end.


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