Humans of Himachal

Unboxing oneself/ is a long/never ending process.

I dodge affection/ like bullets/ the thought of/ having a friend/ who’s not here/ to break on my fall/ is terrifying.

Past experiences/ tell me/ the only way/ to express my heart/ is not to express at all.

Walls of my house/ are of glass/ to receive love/ tender as tendrils/ is the most unacceptable/ thing here.

Men in here/ have been teaching me/ ways to live/ and the art/ of hiding love.

How can I choose/ a role model/ who’s not a man?/ since when/ have women become capable?

Forget the stars/ How do you rewrite things written on the skin??