Often, I am a whole another woman.
A woman who sighs with almond breaths,
oceanic concave shape of my face,
something like an oval, with fingers typing “slow, breathe”
somewhere in this moist air.
This woman is inside my onion mind,
slithering an oculus bowl of chipped nights.
ah, eh, ah, eh
the voices are hollow,
and the dreams are crippled.
They modify too often, along with my neighbour’s talk.
I hear it like a tunnel.
Often, I am complete,
the stem of a leaking shoot.
The colours of my lover’s words suffice the pain.
it happens, during the night,
I am not a sex object.
He makes me full.
Often, I just close my eyes,
these eyelids refuse to sleep,
they rather douse their callous mind in pain,
sobbing and sniffing
mirror plays a friend, too.
embossing my pain, love, all at once.
Devika Mathur resides in India and is a published poet, writer. Her works have been published in Madras Courier, Dying Dahlia Review, Pif Magazine, Spillwords, Duane's Poetree, Piker Press, Mojave heart review, Whisper and the Roar amongst various others. She is the founder of surreal poetry website "Olive skins" and writes at wordpress - my valiant soul.