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May 2016
Her body with a spectral of invisible tattoos that looked like scars she wore for warpaint.

To see them, they’d have to re-invent the colour wheel, and look at it in the fourth dimension.

Her eyes- bulbous, sullen, luminous buttons. The kind you find only on shirts that glow in the dark.  
The neck- a charred red;

Many a thousand orange suns resided there.
Converging a pungent focal point, on her principal axis.

Some men would call her ugly.

But how she looked like the most beautiful roadkill he had ever seen..

So, he drove over her again.
Divya Gaba
Written by
Divya Gaba
598
     ishaan khandpur
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