So I eat like a caterpillar
Gobbling on whatever
Waiting for a metamorphosis
That would never come.
A gem of a person-
A diamond all jagged.
Slit me each time,
I tried to get close.
I feel like painting today,
But the colours in their bottle
Have all dried up- waiting,
How to draw?
I, accustomed to the torments
Of a self acclaimed martyr,
Bottle up-
the pus from an old wound,
The blood from a betrothed wound,
The jagged sheen smiling-
Paint in white and red-
The death,
The longing,
The mourning of lost love.
So I wait at a corner,
And peep at your lips and
Their sly ends,
Waiting for those hiccups-
They come to them when you
Badly miss someone.
But you sit as unyielding
As a cold floor,
on which lay shivering
A dying old soul
In want of a blanket.
Maybe it was never you
That I missed or loved,
I realize, ’twas
the portrait of pus and blood
That stands chipped, discoloured,
The distaste of its flakes,
So piquant in my mouth.
And my teeth clatter like
The soul on the cold floor-
Surviving on my warm tears,
Insulated in the shiny packing papers
Of the gifts you once gave.
The gem’s sheen blinds my eyes now.
So I turn the lights off,
Lo! You are gone.
I huddle under a chair upside down
And gobble whatever some more-
Waiting for a metamorphosis
That never comes.
Wow! Deep..
💚🤗🥰💚
Beautiful 💚💚
Poignant
Really Poignant
Superb! 💚💚💚
Poignant!💐💚💚
Touching and insightful.💚💚
Pahlavi, that was beautiful!
Very vividly described…