the solace that a young kid strives for from their mother was given to me prematurely and unforgivingly
like exquisite immortal booze being gushed into me and sinking in, becoming an inexhaustible part of me
the specks of stardust residing in me, a remote room of utopia only I had the key to
that texture, oozing into me thawed my senses away
I couldn't make out if it was genial or callous, it was murky and all I could see
while you wrapped your dainty pink fingers
around my eyes, while gently sucking the feeble spot behind my ear
and then I experienced life, misstepping over stars while clasping onto the end of your petticoat
so I don't plunge into your endless chasm, swirling the cosmos to accommodate into our hands
we could be anything, everything
and thats all we are, nothing
because once the sound buzzes in my ear, a grim interrupts me
and you dismount brushing my soul softly, like an angel bussing my forehead
fading away into the labyrinths of my intellect, obscuring your complexion with a white rose
while I hesitantly fumble with the handle of the door you picture for me
while it grows bigger and bigger, towering over me
and I slowly self-destruct myself, shattering all the gold pieces you designed for me
fetch you back to me again
because if not with you, what am I?
YOU ARE READING
life is still going on
Poetrya book which you might relate to written eloquently with my limited vocabulary a book where the feelings i didn't know i felt were translated into habits and now will be written into words. because that's communication for me.
