cravings/ THAT KILLS

 

Jacques-Henri Lartigue, Renee Perle, 1930-1931

There is the feeling of my wrists slipping oiled lights through my swollen thumb. Hay through pictures of past. A hum of lights and dust.
I turn through the thick air, a vacuum of period spaces. But I am more than this.
more than the grasshopper that sits and eats twig nonchalantly.
washed, wasted, my iris of dreams.
i could sit on the summer grass, the winter sun,
marking the gullets of the path.
something that wants me.

Β i remember my small fingers,
enclosed like a dainty lotus
afraid of lights,
for that light killed many people.
it is the thread of old vintage sheet i eat.
i eat memories.
i eat cities.
i eat streets.

All the lonely people-Β an anthology

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 “cravings/ THAT KILLS”

  1. ‘Β i remember my small fingers,
    enclosed like a dainty lotus
    afraid of lights,
    for that light killed many people.
    it is the thread of old vintage sheet i eat.
    i eat memories.
    i eat cities.
    i eat streets.’

    I’m speechless at this moment. πŸ’œ

    Liked by 2 people

      1. It’s bizzare but I think that’s also how we attain an obscure sense of satisfaction. Pain makes me feel that life is happening while at other times, I just linger along & laugh as others do, hustle as others do and smile like they do. Pain is what makes us different, I guess.

        No problem. You’re my absolute favorite. ❀

        Liked by 2 people

  2. That second stanza is one of the most powerful you have ever written.
    The entire piece was amazing, but wow…..
    Sometimes, I think you may not receive as many comments as others because
    your work is so deep and brilliant. People are afraid to speak.
    Me for example, on this poem, I know I fail to give it justice with the right accolades
    that it truly deserves.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I loved the ambience the first three lines created. Palpable sense of being trapped and blinded. And I always love to read something that makes me think. Brain food for my snowy morning.
    A big resounding bravo x

    Liked by 2 people

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