Poetry

Burial Ground

I wish I could weave my way into her skin My sweet, sweet girl, with the hope of a thousand stars Brimming on her lashes, her sunny eyes Was the sun ever so bright?

I wish I could weave my way into her skin
My sweet, sweet girl, with the hope of a thousand stars
Brimming on her lashes, her sunny eyes
Was the sun ever so bright?

Close is never close enough
Our skin is a mere sheath (can I shed it?)
I want to build a home in her ribcage
Bury myself deep in her skin and bones

Loving my girl is soft. It’s a caress, a fleeting moment
But when our eyes meet, it’s a hurricane
Oceans vying for dominance
The eye of the storm

Five years in, and I am still young
I am glass, on the side of a road
And she, the one who always spots my shimmer
Picks me up from nothingness

Maybe if I let her swallow me up, I could plant
My heart and soul against hers
My love a beanstalk on her soils
Maybe then, this awful void would fade

This is my burial ground
Her lands, her vast skies and hills
Where I was born from
Where I will rest

I want to be one against the night
Lips seeking closure that the darkness never gives
How can I keep taking her love when my vessel is too small
Too human

To contain those burning galaxies tucked under her lashes?
I wish I could sew my heart on her sleeve
Let her know it beats and it beats
But ebbs only with her sutures
Only with her kiss

This story was about: Sexuality

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I am a writer, poet and journalist. In my free time, I indulge in poetry about queer love, body image and relationships. I love writing about politics, culture and lifestyle. I am deeply passionate about covering queer stories and highlighting unheard stories. I am planning to study international relations and make tangible, impactful changes for a sustainable future.
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T.M. Amrita

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