[LIST_SETTINGS_PANEL_NoItemsMessagePlaceholder] - not found

Please reload

Taken from my collection 'Lines'.

 

For how many years has that cigarette

Perched on the edge

Of your shadowed hollow?

 

Sandpaper stubble

Over the crevices

Of you sun-stained skin.

 

Intermittent whitened lines

Sprout from your scalp

Between childhood tones.

 

Your hairline gives birth

To a scored furrow;

Forehead’s ridges sliced.

 

Below, two vertical folds,

Embossed by two brows

Drawn together in moments of fire.

 

Splintered fractures of the eye

Signal a squint, laboured

By the star of the Med.

 

The glazed glass within,

Still impenetrable,

Like the lens through which I see you now.

 

Anyway, why are you staring at me?

© 2015 By Pria Rai. Proudly created with Wix.com