colors wilt. the
summer hangs high on
her forehead, spurts

blood. my palms are nets
of lines that grow, collide,
fish ambiguity. and

suddenly constellations are nothing
but jealous wishes. from the other
side of the mirror, she
whimpers- come closer. her

lips are parched. i can
see the fear in her eyes, burning
hungry over her hollow-ness-

i can see myself reducing, i say,
quietly as time ticks her Soul off- i will
metamorphose into you

©Mohana Das

Lined to d’verse Meeting the bar


8 thoughts on “un-portrait

  1. You are evolving but your work is so deliciously well done, I feel you are being too hard on yourself
    The emptiness that sometimes takes over as we grow is all encompassing I know.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s