you spill wine over your thick thighs and,
hang the anomalies on your back to dry
the transparent dark matter tugs your blouse but,
you swallow it altogether.
your lips are like the galaxy’s edge
your each grove is a cliché
and you laugh sadly.
i packed my stars inside your
deep blue leather jacket
lined artfully with wintry space objects.
i crumple paper boats and,
watch them float on your starry river.
i enjoy pouring florescent glamour over
your tight lipped body.
small ringed planets fill your uneven skin.
slowly throwing me away-
slowly taking me in.
i am the love child of your cosmic existence and,
wasteful expenditure and
this is the childhood you never had
you were born wrinkled.
you play your retro cassettes every evening
the wailing of blackholes eating themselves.
an emotional breakdown at 2 am
3 am I don’t who I am
4 am you call me home
5 am lost somewhere in space
6 am don’t try to find me.
soft vanilla taste of your mouth
flows into space as lava
then hardens with time
into a grey picket fence
for your glory and greed.
you are nowhere, and
you are everywhere.
together we’re the new age gods.
Sara Bardhan is an undergraduate student from India, who is a full time intersectional feminist and a part time poet. Apart from being a pretentious art lover, she spends most of her time tweeting and reading books. She firmly believes that things get better. Her work can be found on her personal blog: www.laddooforamind.wordpress.com