sharmada
she sat by the waves, thinking of the evenings spent in his arms, an unfathomable lover. was he a mirage? She touched her lips to make sure the love bite he had planted on her skin to make sure he wasn't.
She sat by the window, watched the rain flood the windows. Raindrops smudged the 'piano' from the half-written poem which lay naked, next to the window. She had the fondest memories about her first piano; the smell of its wood still came back to her, every now and then, catching her by surprise. That potent smell, which almost burst like a bubble next to her, incensed her.