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Aug 2014 · 580
That touch.
Anjali Mishra Aug 2014
I am going to tell you a story.
A short story.
A terrible one.
It might be me. It might not be.
I did not know him.
I did not know anybody around.
It was a new class.
He sat behind me.
The lecture commenced.
He touched my back.
Accidentally, I assumed.
I forgave him in my mind.
And I did not turn back.
Another time.
Must be accidental, again.
Forgivance granted.
Turned back? Haha no.
Thrice?
Four times in a row?
I could have turned back and glared.
I did not.
I ignored him.
I hate myself for that.
Suddenly I felt a hand in my top.
I was shocked.
I panicked within.
But put on a calm front.
And did not turn back.
I ignored him again.
I hate myself more, for that.
His hand
Reached my right breast.
I have no clue how.
I felt as though I was dead already.
Strangely
The people around us were oblivious;
Of the heinous crime in procession.
He very casually lingered about.
And very casually pulled his hand back.
All content.
I ignored him, hahah.
Did not turn back, still.
I so hate myself for that.
This might seem insignificant to one.
A matter too trifling to controvert about.
But it was not. For me.
The lecture ended.
Later on?  
A meek complain, I did.
But it was as ignored.
As his malice was by me.
But on much persistence and support.
I stood up again.
I did not resist his advances then, yes.
That was bad.
But understand,
One cannot.
But I finally gathered some courage.
To stand up against it.
Against him.
He was a *****, hahah.
Inbox-ed me an apology on Facebook!
Had a 'sorry' been a solution,
This would have been a perfect world.
But it is not.
I had a proof now
Though.
Of his evil deed.
Thanks to Facebook.
The screenshot was shown,
And punished was he.
I had never felt so happy!
Third of August.
Twenty-thirteen.
It has been a year.
I overcame my apprehensions,
The miseries, the horrors.
To be the happy me.
That I now am.
I still regret not having taken a stand.
At the very moment I was supposed to.
Sigh.
Aug 2014 · 1.4k
Those verdant lanes.
Anjali Mishra Aug 2014
Of a nefarious shadow that followed
Her eyes of blue serene were nonchalant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
The lanes she trod like an esplanade
Her ears could perceive no rant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed.
.
The phantom to her was an Adonis
And yet, oblivion to herself she did grant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
The undefined was lurking closer
Unacquainted while on her errant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed.
.
That aisle could pave way to her hearse
Unaware she; of the dangers nearing every instant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
That peaceful sienna her eyes were at
Oblivious of the slow augury chant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed
As she wended the verdant lanes.

— The End —