Vintage Woes

Narhitya Nawal

I braid shards of myself
like sheltered beacons,
shattering on broken wine bottles
Like cigarette ashes in a ruptured earth jar
I see you,
through the cracked glass
Sorrow pulsating on your arm
you look a lot like wretchedness,
The blue ruin in me
longs to hear wails
And so I hug the spinous parts of you
as you breathe slashes against my skin
Your flesh smells a lot like calamity
I catch your drunken whispers
between my pale fingers,
And bear your hollow vows
Like a smoke stained raglan,
I take in the opium
to keep intact my bones
that keep falling apart like broken porcelain pottery,
My soul pulled out like a departing tide
I'd twist in your like dingy vines of dying poetry,
And breathe smothering wood smoke of your burnt story
But tell me,
Will you dance with me while it thunders tragedy?

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