A bold and intense poem by Deeya.
Your charm wins me round to pen
fond memories, lotus blooms
promising wind and grass
I float, gather dust
on a rotten foliage, a storm
unwinding itself
I can remember your fluty ribs
that poke into my skinny bones
from there emerge, volatile
A cyst weaving distrust and pain
I remain
creaking rust scraped from needless metal yarn
The weeping reality overhangs
a clitoris on my narcotic self
I cannot despise you…
What I can’t be
©Deeya Bhattacharya
Pic from Net.
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