Aakriti Kuntal leaving me breathless.
I know how you may think that I have buried you inside wispy cotton memories, that I have forgotten, that you are now wandering under white silk bedsheets, breathless as the air, perforated and cold. I know you may think that you are spaced like int ers tice s in my life, that I wander into you when the plateaus s h a ke But let me remind you that you dear, are a rolling song of lavender, infused into my collarbone like a syndrome, that you are no memory, for memories attach to temporal lobes and sweat through temples. You are no memory, you are a segment. And segments dance nevertheless. Dance despite. Hum along. And ache together. You are clove dew breaking into lumps in this thoracic leaf bowl of a body Your wafer smile like beans, beads and pebbles, dispersed along my calculated curves, inch over
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