The above sketch is drawn by an artist and a friend.
Every time she remembered him, she smoked a cigarette to forget him. And eventually he was like the smoke of her cigarette. Slowly dispersing away in the air till no trace of it is seen. Until one day, when she looked at her fingers. She saw how burnt and scarred they had been by the cigarette. And then irony had her. Rather than forgetting him, his memories had scarred her for life.
-Ash Ar
YOU ARE READING
AN IOTA OF PAIN
PoetryEverything that can hit you deep inside. Hello, everyone. This is my collection of short stories, poems, quotes and various other things. I don't hope cause I know you are going to like my work. -Ash Ar Reza
