• sagnik_sarma 29w

    human existence is a pestilence
    #pod #writersnetwork

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    fleabag

    you smelt like goodbye
    like the last caress of a septic leg,
    your bright nails on my face, trying
    to dig me out of these glassy eyes,
    maybe resuscitate me with a kiss
    on the wet asphalt, to tease the billboards
    that its neon cyanide always works.

    i’ve moved into emptier rooms
    with my made-up name
    and a drain clogged with heartache.
    at yard sales, I look for the happy kids;
    they want a piece of my longing
    as an escape,
    as an enacting of their songs,
    for a whisper that sounds like you.

    the chairs on the last train are cold,
    i see endless stories in my window,
    bright dots in a fading picture,
    perhaps, i’m perfect in this stillness
    i’m not living, i’m not loving you,
    just awaiting judgement or a conclusion
    of this experiment you abandoned.

    ©sagnik_sarma