16 FEB 2017 AT 3:35

Every night at 3 o clock, I open this compose screen and struggle to pen something arrestingly beautiful. If only you could be knitted in words, I would have weaved you into a sprawling sweater of a prose that I would wear. All I'm left with are some words, fallen like your hair on my pillow, fluttering under my breaths.

With great caution, I bunch those strands together, roll them in a circle and slide them in on my ring finger. Devoid of a sweater, I wear a shy smile instead.

- हर्ष स्नेहांशु