Rya Ray







You sent me a picture of
yourself when I insisted.
I wish we had
a picture of us.
Anyway, there are
several reasons why
we're drifting.
I am allowing myself
to be disappointed
by people other than you.
We'd have laughed
so much at this,
had we been
together in person.
But then, had we been
together in person,
I think we'd have been
a different story.
I'm tired of being angry.
I'm angry of being tired.
You've been asking me
how I have been. 
In other news,
did you read about
the ghost cities of China?

Conversations that collapse on themselves.

11 JAN AT 22:55

Maybe we are all
looking for 
a love that 
runs to us
quicker than 
we can push it away.

Relative velocity.

8 JAN AT 23:34

It's 4:25 now. I'd told you we'd meet at 4:30. I am evaluating a situation where I tell you about my idea of not coming along. It probably won't end well for me and you'll talk a lot and I'd not like that, so I'll just come with you. 
I wish I could just jump to a time when all this mess has begun to make sense. On an unrelated note, have you ever looked into my eyes? Also, would you, for once, decide to keep your arm on my shoulder and draw me close in an autorickshaw? I'd like that. For once, could you love me and just love me? Don't give up a love without ever really loving a lot. Also, never be cold to people. Indifference is for Siri. Ask me if I love you. Tell me how it feels like to have 'Yes' for an answer. I like it when you wear a shirt. I want to write about things that don't become you. Honestly, fuck you. I'm tired. You've confused me long enough. I wish we hadn't met. Don't come near me. I might just kiss you. I might just hit your chest with my fists as I lament the loss of my love for you. Men are strange. I wish someone would turn the volume down for everything. I want to go to sleep.

What to not write about at 2:27 A.M.

7 JAN AT 2:27

I've come to believe
that repetition
is the key to forget
more than it is
a key to remember.
There's a reason
why I've been saying
'You're beautiful'
again and again.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

4 JAN AT 13:58


This is a second chance. This will be a departure from what I'd written back then. I'm now in the flight and you're probably cradled in your bed, with those military lowers. I wonder which underwear you are wearing today. I wonder if you are wearing a vest under the kurta today. I wanted to kiss you several times. Hold your hands. (I wouldn't have. It broke my heart a little when you told me you let me hold hands just so I didn't feel bad.) I liked your messy hair. Made me want to ruffle it. Wanted to see you lying down on me, with your eyes more restless than your body. I'll miss you. I will not hesitate to tell you how I feel. Don't worry about love. What is love? What isn't love? It's weightless. One should just let it be. I will tell you everything, and I hope you do that too. Your hands remind me of how they glided over me, cupping my breasts and the fat that would peek out from places I wish they didn't peek out from. I feel fiercely passionate about meeting you. Your scent, the touch of your lips makes me want to touch them once again. Let your heart skip beats. May this have made you smile. May this have made you cry a little inside. You're beautiful. I love you.

Letters to him. #5

1 JAN AT 13:05

I think tragedy
is better understood 
in things that did not happen 
than in things that did.

Tragedies can be made up of negative space?

29 DEC 2016 AT 21:47

You make me feel
like I'm candy floss.
The air
is eating me away.

Sweet nothing?

28 DEC 2016 AT 8:43

I have been asked why I don't follow a lot of people on YourQuote. I never had a decent answer. I think it's rooted in the fact that this is a place I do not look for answers. This is surgery. I'm on anaesthesia. I want saving. I become selfish. I want to put out my sorrow and dissolve, like gold does in aqua regia, quick and dispassionately. I don't come here to listen. I come here to weep.


21 DEC 2016 AT 9:33



20 DEC 2016 AT 20:04