you have been shredding 
one limb at a time.
it does not happen suddenly;
you know how it works:
there is a method.
but then some days you
could lose all of yourself
lose it all.

you found an old box
at the dark end of the cupboard;
reminiscences of the year
that was bursting at its seams
from love.
it’s reeking 
of losses now.
the scent rises;
filling your lungs
with incapacitation

the weather has stiffened to a dead end,
spiralling into a corner of the garden.
it is visited by thirsty crows
an occasional bird
no butterflies-
they died the year you met her.

rumours of a drought are circulated 
on the what’s app groups;
suffocating  tiny pockets 
of hope.

you can sing now woman;
a dirge around your body
and 
resurrect from your remains:

the goddess of loss

…

Dee is from lahore. loves old trees, words and surreal nights~