A very short ‘n’ silly double-plotted story by the dean of silliness.

He loved her for being easily satisfied, for being awesome, caring, tender, real ……. for being unrivaled. But as the time passed by this non demanding character turned into a burden that he shoulders every night when they visit their secret garden and every morning when she plays ” buy me a rose – Kenny Rogers”. So he decided to travel to make cash … to make her “happy” .

It was a foggy Sunday when she was crying next door begging him to stay, promising tomorrow is going to be bright and re-suggesting for the thousandth time that she gets a job to help. None of these did. He gripped the old suitcase that used to be his son’s cradle as he was turning to leave when his kiddie shouted ” Dad, I can deal with a poor, luxury-free childhood but I will never handle a fatherless past. He ran to his kid, hugged him tight, cried behind his back as a father is a hero and a hero doesn’t shed tears, sniffed him desiring the sacred smell of home……….. The couple made love and the kid slept happily. A happiness that started fading from the very next day as whenever things went wrong, she – whom he loved and still – reminds him that he was ready and willing to leave them ……. And he finally did as the freight gets heavier and heavier …. too much on the lil pony.

HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

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Drunk and still thinking of you

Too lonely to go sin

But though dump, deaf and blind

I can see and hear you saying

I’ve spent your age ferreting

Please don’t …….. Go !!

Now as I spot you 

I remembered the prayers during the nights 

Naked… weak…. stoned

To the might, the all-knowing

To your God 

That I revenge …

That I stop you

I hated myself … I hate you

I hate The fact

That we became one

That I’m soothed… I live in you

Exhausted but willing to run

To race the cheetah and cheat

To even murder … to culprit

To wrongdo

Just to lay next to you

Now, here

And as I fake a smile

And as I’m hiding the tears

I wish these letters

When merged, squeezed, thrown and brewed

My lay way

Then lost and found in a mess

In a shy stack of hay

Could tell how much I love you

                                          ***Knitted, muffled and mailed to the Syreni of the North Atlantic.

Don’t cry

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Don’t cry 

You will be both fine and happy 

And by the end of the ugly tomorrow 

You will meet him

The right …. the one ….. the perfect

And don’t fret

He will clear them 

The ashes of my memory 

The pain of my loss

And the sourness of the sorrow

And don’t sap …

Don’t tire …

And don’t surrender !

He is right there

To glue that part of you

That has to be fixed

To recraft what used to be abused

What I once called mine