Monologue of a Torn Sheet

After months of seclusion, dealing with metamorphosis of art and life, I accepted the delirium of changing style, and changing perception. This poem, is a soundless shatter wrapped in ambiguity.

          Monologue of a Torn Sheet.

Maa,

Tonight I'm acquiescent,

My thoughts reel independent

Of script in my veins.

Desires are evasive,

Delusion is a line I've coddled.

I yearn to hold him close, mum,

Feel his hand caress my pulse,

And watch the night intoxicate his eyes.

I imagine his mouth hunger on my breath,

Fingers willingly entangle in my hair,

And I see my hands merge with his skin,

Resting on his neck, lips sealing a wayward vein.

My scent melts with his beating heart,

And I'm annihilated into colours, ma.

Mum,

I shiver to his whispers,

His moan on my flesh,

His nose defies borders of my shoulders and arms,

Leaving marks to be explored.

 

And every time I feel the closeness of our bodies,

In the final moments of destined intimacy,

Maa,

I watch him die in her name,

And I weep with guilt.

Author's Note

Hope you enjoy this poem :) Images are taken from Google search Image.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, i see the longing, the passion, yet the cries of guilt---those torn feelings, like the torn sheet...sometimes we just feel what we feel and we make indiscretions...later we regret...but at the time...we don't think who or what it will tear up later.

nicely expressed in such a conversational tone.

[Crimson_ish]

Thank you for such a deep and appreciative review! :) A moment of impulse can haunt someone forever!