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Girija Girija Poem
He told me about his white death sheet
And the dark, dark times of not being heard…
I listened to his stories of cutting, blood and scars
And told him some of my own…
I wanted to wrap myself up with him back then,
I wanted to be the one he saw in the mirror
When he looked in it and saw himself bleeding…
He told me about the locked room
Where his past and future were feared dead
And I wanted to be in there with him,
Be his shadow he felt had betrayed him too,
Turn all his sorrow into poetry
That gave his soul wings...
And all along I knew that he knew
That this darkness
This despair
This anguish
Was what brought him here, to this now…
He knew that he must embrace chaos
To give birth to a dancing star
For every scar…
No resolve no matter how strong,
No line in the sand no matter how long
Could survive the love of such a man...
Copyright © Girija Girija | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Girija Girija Poem
I have never laid eyes on him
And still I know every curve
Every edge of coastline of his body…
I know the way his hands feel
As they move joyfully
Over my breasts…
I know what it feels like
To dive into his hair
At the nape of his neck
And run the tip of my tongue
Along his long long eyelashes…
I know what it feels like
To succumb to the unstoppable urge
To press his earlobes
Between my thumbs and forefingers
Or bury my nose in his armpits
And breathe him in there…
I know the feel of his unshaved chin on mine
When I kiss him…
I know how it feels to press my nipples
Into the rough black hair on his chest
When he pulls me closer…
And I know how to gather my soul
Into the contours of his dreams as he sleeps…
And my body
More transparent and honest than my mind
Presses against the closed door
Of the curve of his back
And my heart beats on it
Pleading for forever…
Copyright © Girija Girija | Year Posted 2016
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