chaiNboli

My smile first found its way In your celestial chest long ago While the umbilical cord was not  this weak to hold us together. I have been alive long enough  to understand the curves of your mouth  and glitter of your eyes  and I know while you search if I wear a red whorish smile.  You put me in a glass box and  took me out once in a while but never found the dust and cracks.  In the dinner table you examined me  like an unknown bacteria  asexually reproduced in a petridish,  but never understood the mutations  I underwent.  You interpreted my dreams  in words of unprocessed sugar , playing roles of God squeezing me  like clay in hands. When Iam too embarrassed to  blow out the birthdat candles  you tell that it is just  the season of growing up,  ignoring my plea to be  alone. You braid my hair and put lotion on itchy pink bumps of mosquito bites but am clever enough to hide  the purple...

  We move in circles  inside a doom spiral, two kids playing God  breaking each other in synchronous melodies. There is wrath spreading it's wings over your mulberry kisses and a magnificent laziness layered over the stolen hours in our favorite cafe.  Hold my poem in your hand  just like a newborn with toothless smile,  Pick my tears like wild berries and savor it in an evening  while you watch the blue sky  Turn to a cynical pink  Drape your breath over my  Shoulder bone  Your blue worries knitting floral patterns on it. Feed me the red yolks of eggs while I invoke the ghost, living rent free in your right ventricle, and then we three will play  Hide and seek.  Clean me like a stained crucifix laying forgotten inside a nameless medieval church,  Chanting every prayer you know   and every sin you committed.  May be then I will be able  To forgive myself  For choosing you over me, Always.

 There is a child  swimming in my arteries,  listening to Grimm brother stories,  whispering in thunder nights  A thousand secrets I wish to erase . Moving in circles I listen  To her haunted laugh  And hide it in candy wraps Along with my sour poems. There is filth under my toes  so that I can claim  my territory of pain  Where clay pigeons sing  the poems of Darwish in their soothing voice. Blood bubbles bloom under my pale nails , Your white silence drumming  In my ears.  My tears moves through  neon drainage pipes  while I reapply my  raspberry red lipstick in the bathroom,  tryinf to loosen my throat  so that I can say "am fine ". Dried rose petals excavated under my teeth,  lined with your coffee breath  in my pale lips. Sitting in a pseudo French restaurant  I find your lips dripping poetry with an ease of a ballerina,  your warm honey glow  I try to hold in my ...

 now that am dining with the devil  I have a poem to give you  Unzip your throat and recite  Each and every word I wrote  Sew then to the left ventricle with cotton strings from your favorite kerchief,  Prussian blue coloured.  But remember to hide my name  a yellow star- faded, frayed and torn Waiting for the final holocaust  In an unknown territory of tongues.  Your mouth is a poison gland Where verses taste like toothpaste  Your love thin as air that we carefully preserved in rustic frames you bubble wrapped me in a glass coffin, my breath drawing foggy sketches of the  "Starry night " And you  middle finger dipped in the dark red of my heart  You made me drink silence like a bitter cough syrup,  My throat burned and burned, I was the mermaid princess who lost her voice in exchange of two bony legs  You weaved a glittering sheet  Over my eyes and hissed  "Don't come crying to me " You eavesdropp...