Utkarsha Kohli

Night time at 9pm.
Window pane,
Blocking the pain.
[insects chirping]

Memory lurking.
Dark sky being watched.
Light mind being sharped.
Silence breeds,
A pool of ripples.
Stillness persists,
In eyes not rested.
[insects chirping]

Doing nothing,
But waiting for dawn.
But what to do when dawn strikes?
Get up and put on stripes?
Make mistakes and say yikes?

Stillness still persists,
In beating heart.
In nose sniffles.
In looking out the window.
Night time at 9:10pm.
[insects chirping]
and [fan whirring]

[indistinct chatter]
Of Lady Chatterley's Lover.
Lying nude,
For no dude.
Whispering songs,
Of the old era.
Yellow tone,
Of the room shone.
Blue tone,
Of the feelings borne.

Night time at 9:30pm.
[insects chirping]
Reminds the pink hair,
Of not yet born heir.
Of [indistinct chatter]
Of Lady Chatterley's Lover.

[insects chirping]
with [indistinct chatter]

-uk

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It shook her,
The pain of needles.
Needles of the tattoo gun.
Tattoo gun's black ink.
Left her,
Blank.

It took her,
The tingling in the skin.
Skin of shame.
Shame of society.
Made her,
Blank.

The pain was high,
High of coming out of bubble.
The black ink.
On the skin of shame (for others).
The ink of pride (for herself).
Dissolved her.

Left her,
A blank day.
A blank canvas.
A blank pain.
A blank memory.
A day erased.

-uk

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