#poetryportal13

[prasannawrites]

omophagy. click for better quality. text id under cut

you’re welcome to the feast, pardon the manners of zeus’s eagle— hunger does strange things, have your pick of any of my offal, i recommend the sweetbread, you know my tendencies to tenderness, and to the saccharine have rendered me into caramel. the coldness doesn’t nip at me like an untrained dog anymore, so you’re welcome to puddle me into syrup, and drizzle me over the snow like maple taffy. cannibalize me, like you did in childhood. spill the blood between us, i’ll gnaw on my own hands and spare us the poetry, i'll pick the bones clean, but the flesh is yours to deal with—do the dirty work for once. macerate me in the acidity of your words, mince me with jagged teeth,  like a body cascading off a    cliff. consume what’s left of me— i wanted to know that i was real.

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[prasannawrites]

The Diffusion of a Past

With the waning light of the moon stripping flesh from my bones, puddling into blackened grief – I wonder, do you carry any blame as the flashpoint to all of this? You betrayed your bestowed promise, your words drive over me like the sun ceasing dawn’s solace. Do you feed your guilt with what’s left of me? Is there any sweetness left that you can still savour? You take the night sky, soaking it in silence, gently pressing the sepia out of it and leave it to air dry on a clothesline – Have you lost your tolerance for the nostalgia of what once was? Did you bury me beneath the fireflies grave? Or did you capture me in infrared light? [...] Are you still there?

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collab with @sha-ms

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[prasannawrites]

a quick reminder

don't martyr yourself - you’ll find her, and peace again, maybe at the same time, life is unfortunately ironic like that. the fire burning inside of you will come to an end – i don’t know if it’s the winds of the monsoon or if it’s of our own doing – but tend to it. you'll be better off for it.

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