Pockets of flesh covered by skin,
Some heavy, some light,
Some heavy, some light,
Some say it's nature, some call it sin,
Why on earth should its touch I crave?
Yet it's a desire that sticks to me tight,
All the way up to my cold, dark grave.
Why on earth should its touch I crave?
Yet it's a desire that sticks to me tight,
All the way up to my cold, dark grave.
I found this while browsing through my personal archives on Google Keep and realised I had to post it. I think I intended to stretch it out as a full poem eventually and was probably tired, considering the time at which I wrote it. I should've probably added it to my Short scribbles page but somehow found it as mainstream poetry material and hence I'm putting it here. I'll probably change the title some time.
Written at 3:44am on 13.11.2016 at C504, H13, IIT Bombay
Edited at 5:12pm on 4.5.2017. Further edits made up to 5:50pm on 4.5.2017 at room
Precise, concise and incise👍!!
ReplyDeleteYou have worded one of the facts of life in such a simple way
ReplyDelete