They whisper to my feet
‘Walk, walk, walk’
The wind pushes me forward
I untie the folds of my sorrow
And weave the pain anew
A different poem
A different pain
My hair swallows sunlight
Leaving behind the heat
The strands are still dark
Like the beak of a crow
Building a nest out of dried
Brown twigs of melancholy
My Skin gleams like translucent
Lies craving to get to the
Heart of the ocean
Blue death sounds unique
Maybe I could fly down here
Where others usually die
Silk tides beckon me home
They’ve drowned submarines
And I’ve murdered blue skies
Together we could build a
Shelter out of our psychotic blues.
-Nameera.
