Dahlias
There is something about the sniff of dahlias
the orange sunset behind the passengers travelling
a smooth skin like grass
to absorb shard of pain.
I do not hesitate to close my eyelids once again
to sulk deep down in the bohemian air.
A silk like kiss of clouds rests upon my body
to murmur a serene voice of the tempest,
a roar that watches me, a roar produced by me
for me.
I count my fingers to forget my scars all over again
in a vertical pattern
chipped red painted color.
The mirror acknowledges my face
my petite legs
with a knot of forgotten meadows.
Yes, there is something about the sniff of Dahlias
that shouts my fears each day only to make me a soft petal.
Poetry by Devika Mathur, 27.
India.
Instagram: @my.valiant.soul