Reality, Urban Tales


A mirror shattered in her bedroom,

He broke the glass with whisky in it downstairs in the living room..

Broken bits of glass strewn across their house.


They had fallen in love at eighteen,

But fallen out of it at twenty-eight.

Marriage to them was making sure they made appearances together,

And of course it was about ensuring that the factories ran seamlessly.

All the excitement had disappeared, she thought as she tied her hair into a french braid rather carelessly.


Another night to get by, hopefully he was not drunk,

every appearance brought in money,

every absence meant losses running in lakhs.


Their lifestyle was expensive,

Their hearts were broken,

Only things mended them…


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