Rosmin Elsa Mohan
Rosmin Elsa Mohan Poems
|23.||Dreams in Prussian blue||1/23/2014|
|25.||Crossing The Bridge||3/22/2012|
|27.||Black & White||2/11/2015|
|30.||A Toast To Poetry||3/21/2012|
|31.||** December **||12/14/2011|
|32.||' It Could Never Have Been Better... '||8/18/2013|
|33.||' Diya '||1/23/2012|
|34.||' ARIKE '... so close!||8/16/2012|
I loved candles. Now I know why.
The only sound I could hear was my own heart beat. The morning seemed no longer bright. For a fact, Room No.903, commonly known as the ICCU at AIIMS, had no windows. Morning and nights equally smelled of antiseptic. I had started to forget the smell of my skin. The needle that pierced the epidermal tissues offered no sensation after all. The insanity of the entire room as though reflected on me, as I had started to become a vegetable.
It was last Tuesday