lust, when cajoled & converted,
from the thing it was, becomes
a lascivious ghost, whispering
into your cherry-blossom-ear.
how easy it can be
to drown
in each and every
syllable of that voice,
how difficult it can be
to come out
of a well, where you’ve
bled & emptied yourself.
.
© Anmol Arora
Day 27
(Inter)National Poetry Month
the pastel-pink wall looks
slyly
at the degradation of a colourless face,
somewhat shaken
before the rapture of satisfaction.
it is being brandished in this cold
that isn’t cold anymore,
not even in a half-witted lie
of tomorrow’s promise.
who wrote the fate of this hollow face
that it doesn’t fall off
after the eruption?
.
© Anmol Arora
A title with multiple connotations — a short 55-worded verse for Just One Word: Hollow at WTR.
Image source (Pink Sky Abstract by Nancy Merkle)
HA's Place 