A stich of memory

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.
_______

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.

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

    1. And a lovely feedback from A!
      Thank you, actually I wrote this only a couple of minutes ago and yeah people are more into insta probably? Well who cares!

      I am glad you read it. Thank you for delightful words.
      ๐Ÿ™

      Liked by 2 people

  2. 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

  3. Your poetry is like perfectly stitched garments, sewn lovingly with a skilled hand. How well you create images and create moments that leave me sighing.

    Liked by 1 person

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