The Savages

By Swarnali Patra.

My mind is an unmade bed from being savagely seduced by your intellect.

I have an illiterate heart that is learning the spectral ways of annihilating souls with poetry.

I have my nerves crocheted with yours, making a blanket that keeps me warm on solitary nights.

I have my soul in a conduit with you like your Vodoo dolls that marry the necromantic night.

I have dream-catchers on my body that lure my demons make love to me as I moan.

I wear oblivion like a summer dress as you and I surf on the tidal waves of nostalgia.

I drink your lies up like aged Champagne as I scar your back in ecstasy.

I know you have taken my skin for wood, to ignite and let me burn, while you burn us to ashes.

I smell the fire you set me on and I have been walking around like a pyromaniac.

I am a savage who knows rawness; I loved the savage personification of the end of me.


 

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