The colours from my stockings
are evanescing as you paint my
inner thighs a caliginous golden.
The golden syrup fell down on the
kitchen floor as my pancakes soaked.
How many more honey jars shall
I perforate for some love?
I still want you but
why do you make me want to
taste blades and watch stygian flakes
of my blood engulf our love?
Your beige coloured coat slid past
my table as you ran your tongue
on the tip of your noxious thumb -
Every night when I think of you
I feel a saccharine sugar syrup flow
down my sternum; it cloys my head.
I want to be buried under your black sheets.
It seems like the only way
to feel your etiolated warmth.
I remember that day; we went to a cafe.
You smiled as the steele fork cut
through your blueberry pastry which
was a lapis lazuli shade of blue.
Your energy to love was coaxing
me to believe that it's going to last forever.
But we were already burning, falling
out of love every second -
with every woeful sound of honey jars breaking.
The red drops of cranberry juice
stained your translucent white shirt and
I thought of how your tears were
mixed with my blood that evening.
My bones are becoming tenuous
day by day just like your love.
Why won't you trace your fingers
on my flimsy skin over my bones anymore?
Is it because I am not broken anymore?
Shall I just -
Just rupture myself for your love?
~Sampurna
YOU ARE READING
Ink And Echoes
Poetry♚ ❛ Juliet, Tell me what is it like to vanquish - When you tossed the coin, And stepped on the battleground, With the accent of swords. Still you stand, Hands dripping of sin. In search of Romeo, You killed, And killed, And died. ❜ { Highest rank in...
