The smoke of love

From my left toe, I bleed shouting the years of constant wound,

harsh numb, dead leaves hanging from my inner ear

The half lit candle smirks on my shrinking 

Bedsheet, that lacks you.

With the sway of pendulum I count my hearbeat, hearing the drop of water from

My lips to your sturdy chest

Pour the breeze of mountain chills on my unkissed shoulder,

Then stroke the brush from the galaxy and paint my body with auburm kisses

Play clircles, squares creating a beguiling art on my naval

Where the earthquake is created rupturing new glossy shoots, wandering 

For the further smoke of your tranquilizing face of love.

Published by

my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

37 thoughts on “The smoke of love”

  1. MVS, this is stunning art. You wield your pen like the painter the brush and every creation is a spectacular masterpiece. I love how you use language and felt each word drip into the depths of my soul. Simply beautiful!

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