I am no summer breeze. Neither I am a warm blanket to provide that yearning, surreal warmth.
My own soul is shivering, heart sees cracks here and there, Irrevocable my tears are on this pillow.
Fierce, ghost-like shadows perching on my knee joints,
It hurts. It hurts my paradise dreams.
And you say I am ignorant about the moon and its dark howl.
emotions
For I am a Woman.
image credits-Pinterest
I am a protrusion of rose,
hiding the black spot of the moon in my valour
that rises white dandelions on your skin.
My finger bones creak my virtues,
giving a red shade to the once grey shadow
for I am a Woman, invincible like mammoth stars,
I seek, I wander through the rim of sidewalks
conjuring in roles only unspeakable of.
I walk, I swim, I conquer, I am a swollen mass of expectations
I carve sunflowers, lavender on my forehead,
a thorn indeed wrapped in the interiors of my lips,
my sun-baked lips,
still the succulent lips
oh! My lips.
And then my heart speaks a language of ripe fruits,
yellow pages, white pages all inside
burning a canopy of emotions
Decaying, nurturing, flourishing.
for I am a woman, invincible like mammoth stars.
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If I were a shadow.
Through the slices of segmented desire
Where the circumference of my peevish skin expands,
I inhale into the tiny molecules that flourish these numb walls,
Mending a crack,
With a mist of romance,
A point of lust, a point of a dainty smell of you.
I walk through the ruptures of placid walls enunciating your presence,
And I peel the rim of this cucumber time zone
Where my legs fall in the abyss of surreal moments of you,
Like clicking of needles, rainwater puddle upon my iris,
Now beaming
As if I were a shadow of your dream.
A dream worth swallowing the darkness,
Just to produce the moon’s composure, a debonair companion.
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More of you.
Look deep, shades of blue and black
the eyes of satan, the eyes of cupid
the chains of sorrow, the crack of a backbone,
the loss of blood, look harder
into the bowl of rippling water
the gargantuan stay of evil
flickering in my veins
flickering in your veins
rub roses now, dip into holy waters
dip into your reflection
correct the haywire roads
spray the scent on your collarbone
wear the white pearls around your neck
now you shall see
the more of you.
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Shades of emotion-the black-the red-the grey
The Black
Hoops of the anxious soul are hanging in the most voracious way.I hear thunder, rustling silence.This is my first phase, anger.
The intimidating red eyes. The eyes of satan, they say. The faded shades of grey, charcoal, as my wrist remain crossed.
I put my wrist on top of my forehead.The sagging forehead.
The conundrum geography exists right here, sharply ecstatic.
Hot wax, profound depth, a lingering cold wave.
A dark, gruesome heart.
A ghost- like canopy of thoughts.
The Red.
This is a melancholic phase.
A lugubrious red sorrow shining on my pinky finger, the tales of the darkly skinned elbow.
the bends on my skin, my crooked skin.
the way sky forms uneven patterns,
leaving us bewildered of the richness, the great creations.
All I see is complexities, the bars of a collision, gateway of numbness.
A stoppage.
The vague dreams.
Now the heart is crooked.
The Grey.
A wave of cornered soul resists like the last droplets of rain.
Tiring yellow pages, not desiring to be read further.
Monotonous paths, monotonous tones, monotonous human.
I kiss my pain in a breezing way, hugging my own doleful pits.
the screams forms chains of comfort, the sky is indicating a pattern,
the crookedness is recovering into a deeper hole
name it comfort?Name it a bliss. Oh!Don’t name it.
As it’s still a vivid hole, murky,
dark, distilled in my conscious, collided with my mindset,
it’s grey here, my palm is feverish
my eyelids are the coherence of deeper shades of grey
this is the phase,
this is the ultimate revival, mystical.
