beauty, creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, poetry


Time is a sinful cigarettes
It spills my lungs
Over a river of warm clotted blood.

I inhale as if, to breathe in myself,
In exhilaration, I forget my face in smoke,
The cold winds whispers me, to die young.
To breath my corpse and rejoice in its irregularities,

Would you dance against yours,
Melting your toes and bone and pupils,
As the leaves of melt with an unending
snow to camouflage the remains.

Just one more drag, love
Its a final kiss from a melting skull
that yearns for the flesh and itches.
Pull me close baby, show me your naked house.

Let me live, as you die.
In smoke of your existence

© Shashank Bhardwaj


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