Must be sickening selflove that makes me hold myself
Shameless for you to see
Or idleness of a brain sedate with analgesics.
The round rocks beneath my feet cook in the sun
Sea sprays salt into my curls
I bake in the blaze for your supper.
We feast together, on each other.
My name is red.
Remember.
© Sudeshna Sanyal 2013 ~
No comments:
Post a Comment