• sunshower_ 5w

    Tw: fiction
    Some sentences might have been inked under the influence of some provocative songs.

    "And now that I'm without your kisses
    I'll be needing stitches" - Stitches, Shawn Mendes

    /Tailored wounds/

    A choking metaphor finds a way
    To seep between her bones to enter
    Her poems once in a while,
    Here and there, ringing a cataclysm,
    Leaving cathartic musings,
    Stained time loops
    And nihilistic reverberation,
    It all starts with a flicker, a matchstick,
    Contributing a conflagration to a
    Larger part of her hands and mind,
    The fire ain't enough to warm her
    Frozen breaths, or powerful enough
    To plant penelopes in her
    Cracked heart; Clutching onto words
    Reeking of aestheticism, echoing soft past,
    She's a crossover of September sonnet
    And a jinxed June
    She's searching for a hand
    That'd spell back f o r e v e r on her palm,
    But all she can do is put a tired smile,
    Because when she closes her eyes,
    All she sees is that face and feel the hand
    On hers,
    For whom she once wrote scores of love poems,
    He was a shy wallflower, and
    she, a chirpy leucanthemum,
    She has a kinship with sunflowers and heathers,
    Whilst she wanders with daffodils,
    When they ask her about her home,
    She blows away dandelions petals,
    Lately she is wearing a pinafore
    And flared blue jeans,
    Working day and night in rural fields,
    Occasionally during a sunset,
    She grasps for a moment
    To convert it into a gasping haiku;
    Tendering the sheep, shearing the yarn,
    To stitch tilted smiles on her sleeves,
    Which has been to wars uncountable
    With herself and the world and her love;
    Her skin is a beautiful artwork
    Of battlefields she has been part of;
    As a souvenir of her endurance
    Her forehead is creased with waves,
    A faithful smile always lingering on
    Her pretty lips, she hopes to dust kindness
    On surfaces her feet trudge upon,
    Her soul is a triptych depicting
    Conflicting perception about love,
    Family and identity,
    Trickling drops of rain takes shape of a rainbow
    In the bleeding sky,
    Camouflaged with courage and hope,
    Falling over her face as tears
    She is too afraid to shed,
    A constant conflict between saying and
    Caring too much– keeps her on her toes,
    When I catch a glance of her heart,
    I wonder whether he'd have fallen in love
    h a r d e r
    with her if he'd met her
    before me
    Combustible heartbeats of ours
    Mush into a dough of silence
    My words lie often only upon the paper
    For my tongue can utter
    Only what my mind considers true
    I wish for an eternity
    Drenched in seclusion
    I wish upon a shooting star
    To fade away like her, far
    I have a loose grip
    But good instincts
    I'm searching for a moment
    Only mine to call,
    Mine to own,
    It's all only a thought, until the metaphors
    Overpower my worth and existence,
    I'm driving the car,
    To get my driver's license,
    Only to wake up
    From this dreamy reality.

    25 October '21

    #metaphor #wod

    Honestly I don't remember the last time I wrote such a long poem.

    @writersnetwork thanks!

    Read More

    Tailored wounds