“maybe i’ll never know better” – Nayana Nair

.

the paper flowers in her hair
breathe for that one time
and wilt away.

she keeps walking,
keeps drinking
the colored sweet drink

with the bitter cold metal
melting her lips,
the taste of afternoon welded to her tongue.

her hands never rest, never stay still.
they twirl their laughter
around my fingers .

they find my shoulder, they color my cheeks.
they grow beaks, sprout wings; they rest on my elbow
and pecks at my tiny songs, my pale lips.

a rainbow is born in me, a wall collapses,
and again i forget the rust and the death, the lesson of danger
of fruitless love that i promised to remember all my life.

4 Comments

    1. Nayana Nair says:

      Thanks a lot for the reblog πŸ™‚ Really glad that you liked it πŸ™‚ πŸ˜€
      Have a beautiful day πŸ™‚

  1. Some great expression here
    “keeps drinking
    the colored sweet drink

    with the bitter cold metal
    melting her lips,
    the taste of afternoon welded to her tongue.”

    Simply brilliant as analogy.

    1. Nayana Nair says:

      Thank you so much πŸ™‚ Really glad that you liked it πŸ™‚
      Means a lot πŸ™‚ πŸ˜€

      Have a beautiful day ahead πŸ™‚

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