the window folds itself
curling like an bird
on the chest of a fading sky
“remember the hours you’d paint
sonnets upon my breast,” i had asked
shimmering closer to
your eyes, “while a thousand tremors
shook forests of dusk?”
we were hungry, caterpillar-ish,
but you would rather i left
my hair uncombed, my earlobes empty
for you to sing your heart in-
but then Fevrier-
the way she snapped down the veil,
“…so scared,” i heard my consonants fall,
and the moon shouting, distraught,
your tongue left codes all over-
“don’t leave-”
“there has to be sleep,” you crooned,
“sweetheart-”
when i answered to light
there were scars- all septic-
and they had tagged me (a)live.
©Mohana Das
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insanebloom 
Beautiful…the opening stanza is magic and then it just gets better and better. A very distinctive voice!
I read it over and over. A great song of passion.
INSPIRATIONAL!!
Absolutely stunning write, Mohanna, that left me with questions about the scars (septic?) For me it felt like there was some sort of transition between ecstasy and pain. ;m familiar with fevrier as February in French but want to understand more about it in this context. This is a poem that begs to be studied, not just read…but your voice does come through. You are one whose voice is quite distinct (and stunning).
Thanks for your comment, Victoria. I always look forward to it.
About the scars, I was trying to mean that on the outside things might appear healed, but on the inside everything has turned septic.
As for Fevrier, I had nothing special in mind other than the cruel, cold weather and somehow Fevrier sounded better than February.
Thanks, Mohana. Somehow, French often seems to sound “better” doesn’t it? I like how you slipped that in.
Very nice word play and expressions. Just enjoyable to read. 🙂
the tongue leaving codes all over….perfect…such cool images in this mohana
Mohana, you have a very distinctive voice, and this is just incredible writing.