Fat paychecks, ridiculous mansions and off-shore honeymoons are what they'll use to lure you into the delight of the day, only so that they could fuck you at night. The red chooda would speak of your allegiance and indifference to two different classes of men. Allegiance to the one who walked in with ice to replenish your desert, as against the indifference to those who could only manage a mirage. You see, the difference between a mirage and a miracle is that of five letters. I wonder if I am only five letters short of bridging the gap.

So, I'll write five letters, followed by five more and then five more. I'll rub them against your bruised soul just like my fingers rubbed against your bruised body that night. I won't let someone with a bucket of ice ruin the buckets of sweat and blood that helped show you a mirage. All I need are five letters. Five more letters.

L e t m e.

- A heart penned down