She is a small island
A voiceless twig to flutter
A crecent of moon dropped from beneath-
the body is resourceful
spun into a river.
Now I am silent as I watch my window
with angular toes amd face
birds so small and distant,
That is that. That is that.
Bones awaiting the hours to fly by,
And here people like light rays leave
Salt without wrinkle
Ceiling without star.
I am calm. I am sand. I am calm.
It is the calmness that settles, flees and aborts
into miniature beings of discomfort blankets and nap.
A rare yellow minute when the birds die in the womb.
The warm leaves that twirl om my feet
your lips/ the effect of petrichor
a vintage scent of lovemaking
I carry your marks on my thighs
the interwined fingers,
the scent that blooms the winters.
My therapists say to stay away from the fever
from the red- blue dementia
It happens again.
In the dim- orange light,
we melt away
against the mellow walls
things I can only understand now.
Everything embers on my tongue
the silk- white sheets between my ribs
The body is a marine kaleidoscope,
an abode of abundant light
with the green songs
you float on my belly.
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People like light rays, leave- Inspired by Sylvia Plath
Between the ribs,
the glow disappears into a surreal thing.
A wavy black mirage appears on a crushed paper
/ the piquant distance now,
Slipping between the cellulose air of void/
a mayhem of loose threads,
a dawn kisses by a hurricane,
Will things occur in heart now?
Or will the sit and devour the morbid mind?
of dust- laden mouths
filled with anger/ sins,
Oh humanity! The disavowal of sodden eyes,
almost each night, in darkness.
People like light rays, leave.
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