She was covered in black, a whirling, twirling abbaya*. Her love meshed into you, crimson-blood drops on your lips, Only when she touched you the lights went on, the darkness of her cloak was a…
Thank you for subscribing to Parentheses Journal. We are happy to have you on board. Please check your inbox or spam folder now to confirm your subscription with us.
Sneha & Harshal
Editors, Parentheses Journal