Who is that girl? 
that I refuse to see
staring back at me
who could she possibly be?
Flaws delicately pointed out
but virtues waiting to be touched.
Like flowers on a spring morning
there's a voice inside her
shouting and roaring.
Drifting apart everyday
and the memories
don't seem to stay.
She seeks for help
but they just don't tell
what their baby girl needs
is not on sale.
How much time is going to
pass by?
Before they realize,
that it's too late,
that this love that she needs
just can't wait.

-Andrea Dayana Valdez

During the chess game,
she made a good move.
I smiled a little,
typed:
"Nice"

Just felt right.
A simple thing.
No reply.
We played on.
It ended—a draw.

Then came her words.
First:
"indian"

I blinked.
Felt the air shift.
Then, second:
"monkey"

I just sat there.
Not hurt yet. Not angry.
Just… stunned.
Like: is this real?
I typed back:
"Why"

I added:
"You broke my heart"

I read it again.
Still stunned.
I didn’t know her.
Didn’t do anything.
We just played.

Then she dropped:
"virginity"

That word.
Out of nowhere.
Then:
"i no interesed"
"bye"

It didn’t sting.
It didn’t burn.
It just confused me.
Like the wind changed direction
and I wasn’t ready.

I wrote:
"Virginity?"
"What are you saying?"

No reply.
Just me,
sitting with a drawn game
and a question
I never saw coming.

Hope this poem reaches you.
To Juana Dayana
Of Colombia—
From HRS,
An Indian soul,
Caught in a drawn game’s pull.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.