A piece of pie
high in the sky
burns like the star she is;
Her ashes fall
on mortal soil
warm in my bliss;
She rages on
for ages long
I die each day and night;
Vanity for
her endless light
hides me from her sight;
Drains my soul
bleeds my tears
burns me to the bone;
Yet I crave
her selfish heat
as I crumble in my own;
I loved you once
and you did too
claim it was so;
Cut me still,
I cried and screamed
blinded by your glow;
I pleaded, I begged
I even fell
bruised my fucking knees;
Cut me still
I cried and screamed
like that bowl of petunias,
falling off the windowsill.
“Oh no, not again.”
By Viraj Belgaonkar