I'll not cry today. I'll just put my tears away under the pillow, the way you hide a letter from a lover under old clothes for years, till death. Tears are for public tragedies; funerals, accidents, departures, anniversaries, and resignations. How can I cry about a tragedy only known to me, How can I write about a crushed hope, a hope that rescued me from the raging shadows of despair and failure? How do childless mothers remember the pregnancies only known to them, the babies who had faces, the kisses in every dream, and the eyes only they have seen? I will not cry today, for I have forgotten how to celebrate a tragedy.
About the Creator
Mishal Rubab
I write, just vibes and sometimes crack.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Mishal Rubab and writers in Poets and other communities.
She/her
Like a candle, she lived with a forced smile, she laughed sweetly and wept bitterly. She was burning through the fire of separation; neither smoke, nor light could be seen in her. Outwardly, she lamented like the wind, inwardly she consumed her heart like the earth.
By Mishal Rubababout a year ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.