when i die-

you will find ink blurb, parched words,
acoustic in air,
a hot burning potpourri
and my ink romancing with words.
this is what i will leave when i die-
a torn cloth, stinking souvenirs,
words like thick and sick stick to my tongue,
a concave road of anxiety on my wrists.

for i had no people in my pockets,
i had no eye contact,my conversations with stars
made me fall in love with the moon,
and its dark now, nocturnal love.
nocturnal soul.

65 thoughts on “when i die-

  1. You know I can feel this poem …It’s so wonderfully composed and one who gets the real essence of it …
    This line ” a concave road of anxiety on my wrists β€œβ€¦..Too good ✨✨✨✨
    Regards
    _Muneeta Aneja
    _innervoice28

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The build-up to these lines are distinguished and complete, but these lines:

    “this is what i will leave when i die-
    a torn cloth, stinking souvenirs,
    words like thick and sick stick to my tongue,
    a concave road of anxiety on my wrists.

    for i had no people in my pockets,
    i had no eye contact,my conversations with stars
    made me fall in love with the moon,”

    stand alone on their own. This is true grit writing, Devika. Sincerely.

    Liked by 1 person

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