User Review( votes)
written by: Avantika Singhal
Imaginations are abortive and delusional, sometimes.
But when I say that I want to grip you from under
your armpits and lift your scrawny body onto a
cloud which lolls around the crusts of the sky,
I mean it. And when I say that I want to place your
feet on the tiny rivulets of water that grace our
windowsill, I really mean it. And when I tell
you that I’d like to see you bend linear
grass blades into your direction, I really mean
it. I mean it all until reality slaps me in the face
and I am left longing for a future in which you
shit gold and spit out glitter. As of now, you just
sit there. Waiting for miracles to bomb upon you.
And I sit and wait with you while writing this poem.