She Walked Away

by Priya Chouhan

She Walked Away

She Walked Away

Face seemed pale in the starlight, annoyed by a kiss of wind,
holding on to the damp grass, dead words overflowed from her eyes.

Flashbacks hit the fragile heart hard, a smile that I know the meaning of,
she needed someone to look back at, something to cherish.

The silent cries of broken trust encircled the jolly air,
cuts on her neck dissolved with the clingy flesh of hopelessness.

My eyes shut completely, felt nothing, just the vibrations of an unloved soul,
her hands pulling out the petals of colour until it merges with the night.

Humming a song, one that she hasn’t heard of, uneasiness creeping in,
she searched her palms meticulously to find a glimpse of love.

Head down with resignation to fate,
I waited as she walked away.

Flashbacks — — — — — to cherish!


Poison of Hate

White foam on the outer edges of lips, stains of foul red at the center,
disgusted words forming the saliva.

The tongue adapting to the taste of poison of hate,
throat repressing its anger, tonsils all over.

Nerves pounding the thin skin of envy, blood flowing half-heartedly,
the air of optimism stilled, grew heavy, suffocating the lungs.

Ash-grey rust seated on once a beautiful mind,
poison seeping down the already bloated abdomen.

Nose bleeding with darkness, skin hair falling,
dehydrated pores of affection, a purple soul.

A severe cough of defeatism, nails painted with hues of aggression,
will I ever change?

The tongue — — — — — all over!

About the author

Priya Chouhan graduated in Economics from St. Xavier’s College, Jaipur, Rajasthan (India) and currently preparing for her Masters. Her poems has appeared in various literary publications, including Corvus Review, Black Moon Magazine, Dreich, Literary Yard, Littoral Magazine, Bosphorus Review of Books.

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