(i) I am a closet writer. I dare not type your name or profess what I really feel. Am I then a closet ‘feeler’ too?
(ii) Half-finished sentences, Stolen glances, Unnecessary calls, Indirect messages; How long before we realize the futility of living a half-life?
(iii) What does it take to get the message across?
What does it take to break your wall?
What does it take for you to give me a chance?
(iv) Even if you choose to give me…you, in painfully slow installments. It is still okay. Just as long as it is you.
(The writer is a Govt. servant who writes poetry as a hobby. She is inspired by life and relationships in general)