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Hemalatha G

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every time I told someone that I stopped loving 'em there was no guilt, not a speck of concern for the person, instead I felt proud for being able to move on: I didn't realize it is the receiver who must be able to ditch these and move on, with peace; acceptance wore monstrous curtains when it approached me with bare reality, I have unloved a thousand bodies and remade hundreds of beds be

every time I told someone that I stopped loving 'em there was no guilt, not a speck of concern for the person, instead I felt proud for being able to move on: I didn't realize it is the receiver who must be able to ditch these and move on, with peace; acceptance wore monstrous curtains when it approached me with bare reality, I have unloved a thousand bodies and remade hundreds of beds be

Durga Kannan

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To him, we were like clothes on a hanger. Meant to be there whenever he chose to use us. His objects. His personal inventory of things. As if, we weren't human; we didn't have feelings; we didn't have opinions. That's how he treated me and the rest. A dictator, that's what he was. Throwing us around, crushing us, stamping on us, keeping us locked, like clothes in a cupboard. We were his slaves. He, our master. He bought us for a price, like commodities. We resented that. It played on our psyche making us feel lowly, worse than animals, who as pets were treated way better. We had a plan. Together, we drugged him and locked him up in the store room. The four of us escaped. To a better life. A better world. A dignified existence where we're treated as humans. To him, we were like clothes on a hanger. Meant to be there whenever he chose to use us. His objects. His personal inventory of things. As i

To him, we were like clothes on a hanger. Meant to be there whenever he chose to use us. His objects. His personal inventory of things. As if, we weren't human; we didn't have feelings; we didn't have opinions. That's how he treated me and the rest. A dictator, that's what he was. Throwing us around, crushing us, stamping on us, keeping us locked, like clothes in a cupboard. We were his slaves. He, our master. He bought us for a price, like commodities. We resented that. It played on our psyche making us feel lowly, worse than animals, who as pets were treated way better. We had a plan. Together, we drugged him and locked him up in the store room. The four of us escaped. To a better life. A better world. A dignified existence where we're treated as humans. To him, we were like clothes on a hanger. Meant to be there whenever he chose to use us. His objects. His personal inventory of things. As i