Pseudo- love
A month after you decided
I was not enough docile
For your insinuations
I was a doggerel in your hand. How
mellow is the heart of a woman waiting
for Love to take charge—
all of it made sense, signs
of a passade.
You passing the chalice to parched lips
And me in sheer silks
Macabre.
All of it rolls down my cheek
As if it never was.
“darling, you're priceless”
was your jingle,
All you but ever thought I was
A twofer.
From Irtika's poetry collection Stormbound, released by Arjun Rajendran at the Quarantine Train collective. Artwork by Rohan Rathod