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meghaa_sinha

@meghaa_sinha

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Frequently elsewhere, rarely lost.

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For a long time, I believed forgiveness would feel like addition-

an apology, an explanation, some symmetry restored

Instead, it was subtraction.

A name from the argument.
A reason from the memory.
A little truth from what I carried

Then-

less.

lesser.

Nothing.

#writer #insta by @meghaa_sinha

24

4

a month ago

Two minutes in boiling water
and suddenly
the evening has acquired
a grammar.

Steam.
Salt.
Yellow.

I eat the sentence
before it can become profound.

I watched them disappear,
one strand at a time,
with the concentration
usually reserved for regret.

#write #insta #maggie by @meghaa_sinha

53

12

a month ago

There are things I would rather remember incorrectly.

The blue of an unnamed hour.
The shape of something that was almost said.
A cup retaining the warmth of a hand long gone.

Memory is an unreliable architect.
It removes the rooms,
leaves the light.

#write #insta #lifelessons by @meghaa_sinha

23

2

a month ago

There are words that become important only after they have become useless..

#instagood by @meghaa_sinha

30

1

a month ago

She gave things away without ceremony.

A winter afternoon she had meant to keep for herself.
The last piece of bread on the plate.
Her anger. Her sleep. Her better years.

She gave people the kind of forgiveness that left no room for them to feel guilty.

She believed that if she loved someone enough, they would eventually notice the cost of it.

They did not.

Years later, when she tried to remember where all those pieces of herself had gone, she could name the people who had taken them.

What she could not remember was the last time someone had asked her what she needed.

And perhaps, beneath all that giving,
she was still only a girl
gulping down a woman’s grief

#write #writerswrite #writersofinstagram by @meghaa_sinha

35

3

a month ago