an unsound attempt for bliss

september hovers over my bloated fingers before
pressing her petite lips on them and leaving behind
burnt marks that could birth black cigarette butts.
i tell myself it is in the shape of a sign.

this town is different from the one i’m half-running from.
the thin-lipped evenings do not morph into ghosts with
calloused hands, instead they turn three shades darker and
hand me memories that make me wish for a softer cremation.
but i cannot stop wishing for it nonetheless.

and so i finally move my hands from the mirror, curl
my fingers around one another instead, and take the sign.

if this rotting won’t stop, i will fall in line and follow suit.

after all,
a decaying body cannot hurt a mind
that is willfully falling apart too.

"we are rotting together"
i am finally a part of something.

"we will go down together"
we nod through the crimson dripping.

-

sharodi h.
28th September, 2023
12:21am