The Reaping

By Ankita Dwivedi

Deep in the shin ,

Of something that is there and has long been .

You sow breaths in my neck ,

I capture imagination in my hands.

I shiver deafened against the walls

that freeze me in golden sands .

When my lips meet your eyes ,

and your heat seeps my thighs ,

I burn out on your cold .

Of faltering kingdoms of gold.

Stop hiding where you are ,

come out so you see .

In places you have never looked before,

places you beg to be.

And there is silence in the slaughter ,

there is madness in becoming .

Of treacherous souls and forbidden desires , When the reaping is the blessing

By Ankita Dwivedi