Not sure if it works.
The moment you extend your arms
to embrace me, you swing an invisible ax
over your shoulder and bring its head
down into my chest—first, the pointed end,
breaking the hardness outside, then the flat one,
chopping the veins and arteries into tiny
little pieces. Take note of this, lady—your every
embrace turns my heart, my soul into
a leveled ground of bountiful forgetfulness.
Poetry by Yayāti
Read 121 times
Written on 2020-02-24 at 13:16
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