can you catch me?

my brain, moresmudge than wrinkled-thinking-machine,eye-to-eye — last week's cold coffee & I — where is the milkin this sugarlessgoodbye. we're lockedbut we're also the key. there is a story withinthese cracks in timid tremble float, afloat.up, up, andaway. — 15.06.2021©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.Photo via Unsplash This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives… Continue reading can you catch me?

Two years taste like

my first dhal on our seven-hour train ride— spices still strangers to my soya-sauced-lips. a firework to my palette yet, you were there. with a camera taking notes of each knot on my fore- head, every twitch of my nose. i knew. i need not to glaze myself in honey to be enough for you.… Continue reading Two years taste like

missing thumb: a quadrille

murderer. i am a murderer of eight. eight innocent lives my hands without green thumbs have ended the purple garden of eight eggplants. i was 15. since then i've not tried to get my fingers dirty, afraid to be a murderer for the ninth time. — 08.11.2020 ©2020 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo… Continue reading missing thumb: a quadrille

little girls with chocolate cake feet

A two-minute quick sprint out of a wooden house with wiggling eight-step stairs ("our" because we live there, but is not really ours at all) and I and my two sisters are out of reach of our mom's arms carrying the fourth young mouth of the family. Under a soft-roast summer noon, bare feet and little… Continue reading little girls with chocolate cake feet

army of elements

Naked eyes’re powerless for they are invisible, smaller than dust, no less. Creepy crawlers, void of tiny legs, bursting from vein to vein inside a mortal, muscled-keg. A minuscule army of Platinum, Fluorine, Arsenic, Boron haunting for the invading “C”. With a fatal glow, ‘nother option is the clear-cut missile of Cobalt-60 and Nickel-60. Both… Continue reading army of elements

snowdrops and broken hearts: a monorhyme*

Pluck one, and then two, hold those tears, though true, "He loves you not." Chew perished juice--- his rue. Pluck three, four, five. Phew. Let him go. Adieu. Enough of flower's woo, your chapter is through. Spit the seed 'side you. Beside your window's view, sink yesterday's blue, water with hope's brew. Wait for spring's… Continue reading snowdrops and broken hearts: a monorhyme*

a land i wish is a myth

in sixteen seconds, bang... bang, bang, bang, bang. two young breaths cold and glass-eyed. behind's a pair of teen-hands. instead of his birthday cake, with a pistol, he blows his own mind last. in sixteen seconds. another school joins an exclusive club no one dreams or wants. in sixteen seconds the sky gulps, to welcome… Continue reading a land i wish is a myth

postal code stamps

Our tongues are dancing muscles sprinkled with the magic dust of languages, as if before birth we're treated on a buffet of diverse dialects and accents where we select how our mouths will circle and arch to utter each twisted word's lyrical march, but pause and place your vein-hand in the middle of your breasts,… Continue reading postal code stamps