Thoughts

They fell on me,
a feathery dusting of
poetry and prisms.
One seeped into my blood
and the other diffused
in my soul.

The poems I wrote
had sharp edges that
cut into my skin.
The blood that welled up
had all the colours of
a rainbow.

Laughing blues, sighing reds
and tearful greens
All escaped in
frightful haste,
leaving behind
bits and pieces
of a broken spectrum.

(Location : Chennai)

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