grave

but darling,
there was a time
when i was so whole
my crevices cracked
of my fullness,
now
i am open for
you and them
to put my pieces
back in my grave. 

HE MADE MY VEINS

I have unmade veins, they are a mix of green and blue, traveling through whatever little is left of me. They are no maps to where my intention lies, they are his doing, he made them to find my own ways, ingesting hollowing smoke into them, puncturing my flesh, oh! there is none left. They spread among the redishness of my burnt skin, he often leaves his traces down where he travels. You won't find me, I am lost within my own veins.


Image- Pinterest 

WOMEN TO NAME NO SCARS AFTER

I call myself a man with open wounds, fresh air and sun fills up my entrails with love and loathe, blood rushing to the ends. I have no women to name these scars after and yet I have them evidently placed under my sleeve, that's where all of them left their slippery kisses hidden to reconcile with in times ahead. None of them returned. I drew a line every time she left me with a staying smile and then in no time I had too many to sustain. It was to remember the number of kisses I got in a lifetime, the number of women who left a part of their existence with me, the number of women who moved on without taking them back but it was too late to realize that my number of scars long proceeded the number of women who unloved me.

image - @Pinterest 

WINTER

Sometimes, I feel the need to go out and stand in the cold, to face the alluding mist till exhausted it melts on my burning face, to run with the winds till they try hard enough to catch me. Sometimes, I want to behold the white picturesque in my vision and seal my eyes forever, to let the winter gush infuse in me the crimson that conceals itself from the fading world. Sometimes, I want to breathe in the callous cold till it freezes me from the inside, sometimes I want the winter to be all mine.

Image - Pinterest