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Jul 2014
when it aches,

with every breath;
in out in out in
out.

each inhale exhale punctuated with a sharp pang of pain that leaves you gasping on the floor.

when you bleed,

and you can't find a puncture wound;
drip drop drip drop drip
drop.

the crimson nectar that flows out of your veins, fleeing from your heart, evading you.

when you go blind,

your head aches;
bang bang boom bang bang
boom.

a hammer tolling on the top floor of your anatomy, like that church bell you religiously avoid.

when sounds get overwhelming,

screeeeeeechy sounds,
that make you want to jump off a cliff.
as if your ears decided to behave like 'whats-her-name' at 'holy-****-that-time-of-the-month!'.

you should know then, that you've been shot;
right at that literal sweet center spot.

and you've fallen hard,
for that treacherous huntress.
who would chew you raw,
with all her blunt honesty,
with all her fierce stubbornness,
with all her untamed compassion,
not to forget, her screaming womanhood
you can't get your eyes off...


the one who would walk all over you,
in her not-less-than-seven-inch Steveies';
and wouldn't give it a second thought.

and you know,
in that torn tattered broken cardiac ***** at your core,
*that you would let her...
'To love is to destroy, to be loved is to be the one destroyed.' - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments
Shruti Atri
Written by
Shruti Atri  Mumbai, India
(Mumbai, India)   
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