The Awakening

1950s Unlimited

Tablecloth,
wet bedsheets,
branches/ twigs entangled
between the phosphorous skin of ours.

Circles of slow breaths
sighs,
deeper of magenta blush
The months become cold.
almost nostalgic,
fever rushing through veins
& chills of hypnosis

against the walls,
on the kitchen slab
we spread our colours
while the black night absorbs our love
through the static throat

But then…
then, then, then,
I collapse
here on your pencil neck
only to watch the mornings again
constant motion, blurring the hands in the sun.

19 thoughts on “The Awakening

      1. You are always welcome Devika.
        Though I am not able to fully grasp the beauty of your poetry because of my lack of ability, you’re my favourite 🤗

        Liked by 1 person

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