#018

the sky is done crying.
 
midnight pre-mature, you rub
fingertips, (scrupulous as ever), deciding…
 
sparrows gone, winter relishing
cruel revenge, broken i
stroke poetry on your side of the bed,
choking on your scent,
and resist the half-sleep.
through hours of darkness I repeat,
superposing love on love is wrong.
 
split.
 
drifting, senses blur, as
reasons stop arguing-
i claw pain on shivering thighs,
sputter tears, despair
due. it matters more now
that i am left without hope.
 
you were always right,
even in your turbid silence.
 
©Mohana Das

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6 thoughts on “#018

  1. “Superposing love on love in wrong.” You are so right: piling on layers of affection, longing, etc. is the wrong action when love is already absent. There can be no substitutes.

  2. Wow Mohana, this has a lot of depth. You’ve got a gift for finding new ways of expressing things that are often inexpressible for many of us. So many great lines here…

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