Behind Poems

Here in this fog,
I hug myself tight,
licking emptiness off cleft lips;
my verses need survival-
I stroke my hair,
hyphenate my breaths.

Manic reflections, from
pole to pole, whilst
frayed seasons fall and twist.
I question if I’m good
or bad, I find no white,
there is no black, convulsed,
my head cannot relate “in-between”:

                               it prefers perfection, sans detailing.

Drawing manacles of mist over
deep-clawed wrists, I
recall moments when
blood cooled the psyche. I
don’t dream to die, but
extra opioids will
clear out this fog,
wipe out this pain,

                               and no one will ever know.

©Mohana Das

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24 thoughts on “Behind Poems

  1. Mohana, just adore this phrase “hyphenated breaths”: how much of our lives we try to get enough oxygen this way. No wonder we need extra opioids to clear the mists! Thanks for this honesty!

  2. “And no one will ever know.” Ha ha! 🙂

    I like this:
    “licking emptiness off cleft lips,
    my verses need survival-
    I stroke my hair,
    hyphenate my breathes”

    (But “breathes” should be “breaths” in case you want to fix it.)

  3. The Fog! Oh the damned Fog!
    very emotional, lyrical, & Expressive!
    the pain that needs assistance.

    ”..and no one will ever know.”
    most likely because they’ve got their own pains or pleasures going on.

    this is a very good poem. well written, structured, and ‘shown’

  4. Here in this fog,
    I hug myself tight,
    licking emptiness off cleft lips;
    my verses need survival-
    I stroke my hair,
    hyphenate my breathes.

    your poetic talent makes me SMILE!

    wow, how I love reading your lines, they dance like classical music, Cheers.

    Happy Poetry Picnic!

    Happy Thanksgiving.
    🙂

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