Rihana
I am coming back
with the girl who lured
the city with her song
I grabbed her
As she oozed down
from the disco party
And just like her painted hairs
I yearned to be free
while rooted in her..
the strands of her hair used to
dance with all the rogue winds..
I have to steal
the menstrual blood of spring
to redden her lips
that were charred
by the kiss of summer
There is only a single room
in the thatched house
when I returned with the girl
who lured the city with her song
Sitting on its steps
that are plastered dry with cow dung
May be I will blacken her hair
with medicated oil.
During noontimes,
while I comb
and count her hairs one by one,
I will put to death
the lice I find there
and will claim that her body
was solely my own home
While thus crossing boredom
once, when I find a grey hair
from her head
Maybe I will pluck them all out
without her knowing it
When she comes to know of it
Maybe she will paint
those strands of her hair,
But never will she attempt
to lure the cities again.
poem by Sujeesh nm92
Added by Poetry Lover
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