You and me, we share no stories,
no convergences.

There are no bridges binding together the extremes we breathe in. There are no constellations connecting the dots of our reality. There are no heartstrings holding us together. There are no poles to measure the distance by which we are apart from each other.

There is nothing common between you and me except the fact that we dream under the same blanket of darkness, shades of that blanket might be different at times yet, you shiver, sweat and squeeze just like me.

You and me, we share no stories.
What we share are just some nightmares, nightmares we can't ever swap.

-Prachi

There is a girl, and she doesn't believe in the existence of god.

She once told her best-friend that if there is something like BIRTH and DEATH, then there can't be anything like heaven and hell. However, she uses both HEAVEN and HELL as metaphors in her poems for pointing at the good and the bad while
wondering what distinguishes a devil from an angel.

Once someone asked her- “Do you believe in the power of DESTINY?”.
She didn't answer the question and ended up writing a whole essay on the value of HARD WORK while reflecting upon the lives of many who are working hard since ages without any fruition.

One day her grandfather told her that she should have at least some amount of FAITH in her life, even if she doesn't BELIEVE in worshiping any sculptures or images. She told him that the only thing she believes in is his selfless love for her.

She has a closet,
and it's full of secrets and MYSTERIES,
the secret letters of pain and grief, of existential crisis and restless nights.
They were written to someone named as GOD by her ten-year-old self.

Every night she joins her hands and closes her eyes to make a wish and PRAY for the well-being of
the boy who claims to be in love with her.
And every morning when I wake up to look at her face in the mirror, all I could see in front of my eyes is a portrait of an ATHEIST in love.

-Prachi