poetry

Gulmohar

And her trembling fingers

Crawl on his feet

Evoking sensation

her fingers curve

to move upwards

When he tugs her curls.

She a delicate

wet Gulmohar flower

separated from the tree falling

on the rough edges

of his tarred skin

the breeze sweeps her

sending her cascading

through his crevices at an

uncomfortable pace

Afraid of being trampled

she shivers.

Too late to escape now

Dangerous to run

she places her charred lips

On his latent skin

for they have nowhere else to go

And he burns them

all over again

Seeking refuge in rain

she opens the last knots

Of her yellow gossamer skirt

He feasts on her

Always run over by everything

he stands his ground

but she isn’t used to

this passion and destruction

So he holds her

the vehicles zoom past

She trembles

his eyes roll towards the sky

When it pours like never before

and they are one in this moment

and she fades in the next

as he stands there numb.

1 thought on “Gulmohar”

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