A stich of memory

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i am white & floaty like clouds.
thick sheets of molasses.
Old lavender strings hanging on my chest.

i am a convex memory of wax.
flashback of old days speak to me,
like vintage numbers,
vintage photos,
vintage walls & laughters.

i have a thing with people.
i mark and eat them along with the spaces.
completely. Bones. ashes. all in me,
as i create my nausea myself
dripping down my red lips.

i create and dissolve.
_______

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39 thoughts on “A stich of memory”

  1. No one has commented. Blasphemy!!!
    Dare I say no one writes introspective poetry as beautiful, raw, and inspiring as you do.
    You appear to have a natural talent for this. This poem is a perfect example of how it should be done.
    This was wonderful MVS.
    Please continue to inspire us.

    Liked by 2 people

  17. You could have said only this and thunder would’ve roared:

    “i have a thing with people.
    i mark and eat them along with the spaces.
    completely. Bones. ashes. all in me,
    as i create my nausea myself
    dripping down my red lips.
    i create and dissolve.”

    You are a master at what you do, Devika.

    Liked by 3 people

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