Aakriti Kuntal leaving me breathless.

Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

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 
          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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