Monday, 3 July 2017

Like a weed
sure of the sunshine on its little leaves
caught unaware crushed
under the sole of a boot
imprints itself bleeding,
lamenting the last breath that never would count as fragrance,
into dust brought from distances
and earth meets earth
in death
I melt.
And through an open window
in the sultry summer
that brings in no air
the ocean calls out me.
The ocean calls out to me, I melt
and break into water.
Broken bits of myself
crawl down my back
tracing the names scribbled on my spine
lose themselves in the leftover of a rain
clinging on to my curls
in the dark
bursts into contours of the sweet salt other
of moistness of distances, places
people, names
time and moments
to die longing for the ocean.
Soon, sighs
the part of me left back to write.

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