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archana May 13
A rolling ocean, a plea of pain, watch me
In shades of purples, browns and indigo,
Within shades of azure, slate and arctic,
I grasp within the walls if inseparable grief,
A capsule of destruction
Clutched, sculpted and caressed

Ashes have come to me in colours
And you came to me in memories
Faded ones where I could dream of
Beach waters that kissed my toes
And roads in December, deep in snow.
Skies of blue, mulberry-

A scarlet coloured scar, crimson rivers and bricks
Contorted with pain, ****** with metals like
Bronze and gold to shine, smile, dazzled with a
Little of cherry wine.

Burnt parchments and withered ivory,
Years of snow later, chiffon laced mistake
that tasted like poison I stowed under
My tongue, whispers of dearth powders that
Screamed of betrayal and hurt,
All the people who loved me
With silver pepper and creamy salt,

I walk away from them and scream into a
Void, a word that spells like love
Something flies out like miserable-looking
butterflies and I watch the people who
Love me burn, all the while whispering
Just please, never return.
voodoo May 2
white surfaces flash in fluorescent lighting –

this is no opus, heaving on cold bathroom tiles,

blood and grain against porcelain,

convulsing creature in all its grotesque obloquy:

bleary and snotting. four-walled, windowless, antiseptic vivarium;

life crawls outside. it thrives, it devours, it fortifies.

inside, here, it repulses. ****** effluvium of all kinds.

sharp shrieks of skin across glossed floor, tears soak

before the cliff of the jaw. nothing stays.

wiping drool off the sterile sink and sweat off my knotted back.

snarls choking into sobs, sobs gasping for air.

this is no opus; blackening from corners,

the repugnant vignette held between fingernails –

for the contagious odium of the resigned abhorrent

bleeds and drips and stains.

neglect and rejection strewn like pearls,

pearls, worth nothing, feeling everything.

a fly buzzes in the stark fluorescent light,

and blackness climbs in. blackness consumes.
I am a mermaid

singing a siren song
to bring you home

what could be greater
than a reunion

between the lull
of lapping waves

and a life ever after

in the mysterious ocean
Day Thirty
Tonight I feel like a book, uncertain of words in it, sometimes they are slow & sometimes crawling,
in the readers minds, initiating conversations &
bedazzled on my tongue are some fallen tears, unspoken words, leftover kisses from my lover &
colliding bodies in my head are made of clay,
the memories of touching and being touched unfold in my dreams, they're me turning pages in a book
and i’m not joking when i say i feel like a book,
because i do and the words seep right through me
like my soul doesn't really exist, it is rather an uneven montage of feelings & words, like a book
Amidst the chaos of
what was and
what can never be

there is now

I’ll sit and hold
your hand, here,
in this baffling moment

and whisper
“It’s okay”
Day Twenty Nine
You said my scar
was a line that lead you
directly to my heart

(and I sighed)

because scar tissue
has no memory
and can never lead you
back to me again
Day Twenty Eight
You were forever saying “look!”

at the flowers
at the sky
at the stars
at the moon

but not once did you look
in my eyes

and see your pain reflected
back at you

a mirroring of broken souls
broken parts
broken hearts

that were destined to shelter
with each other

during the storm
Day Twenty Seven
tell me I am welcome
in the darkest corners
of your mind

tell me I am welcome
to rest my heart there

tell me I am welcome
to stay
An old poem that I edited a bit.
Inspiration and depression don’t go together.

Day Twenty Six
Your gaze burns into
the back of my skull

intensity that I dare not
look away from

daring to ask questions
that speech cannot

a fire inside the heart
of your eyes

yet they are as empty as
a snakes

heartbreak cutting through
your irises

your pupils shining black
with grief

am I really responsible
for the death of such beauty?

for the death of a sacred look
a sacred wink

can we not go back to the beginning?

brown eyes that I fell in love with
and mine, blue

that you said were as deep
as the ocean

and yet more beautiful

and yet, and yet,
at the end of the day

more deadly
Day Twenty Five
I sit drinking black coffee
(two sugars)
in an all night cafe
across from the park

my face is pressed
against the glass,
condensation forming
as the temperature hovers
around freezing

I stare at the trees,
watching the leaves intently
as they blow slightly in the wind

the birds are chirping loudly,
anticipating the dawn

as the dusty pinks
turn into pale blue

people appear like ants,
scuttling in formation,
focused, eyes fixed on their goal

the pavement takes their weight,
the train terminal opens
like the mouth of the sea,
allowing them all to enter

the city is waking up for me
Day Twenty Four
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