(Written February 23, 2011, 12:20 am.)
Chop me into pieces, and pack me away,
For today is a day I do not want to face.
You can put me together some other day,
When life can offer some semblance of grace.
I am broken and dead, but can't seem to stop breathing.
You are the sun; you could hide me in you.
You can burn me alive until my heart stops teething
On this feeling of insecurity and darkness and gloom.
And if I were to vanish or disappear or cease,
I wonder the world wouldn't thank divine powers.
The timid termination of a toxic tease
Celebrated with cigars and whiskey sours.
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2 comments:
Someone that likes to write and actually does it well? I'm a fan.
--drunk guy on the Hoboken train that asked you about Love in a Time of Cholera
Haha. I don't buy that I actually do it well, but thank you for being nice! If you're ever up to sharing your stuff, I'd love to read.
Looks like once I get done with Love in a Time of Cholera (which I think will be a while, since it's a big book and not a breezy read), I have a lineup of Russian authors waiting. I'm looking forward to it since I haven't read any before.
Kriti
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