Loving You.
I am pressing my fingers thin into my palms
My worth was reduced to your alms
I revolted feeling better to let you know
How hard it is
But I must let you go
And I am so calm so composed
To the bone
My secret terror
no one's business but
My own.
I guard my own corpse
And sing my own wake
And I still smile
Brilliantly
So that you whisper
"Fake".
Yes My smile gets put on easy
like make up
sugar icing on the cake
And No ...I don't wear love like lip gloss
My loving isn't fake.
All rights reserved
(c)
Amrita Valan 2014
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