untitled by Megha Rao


Artwork by Aubrey Vincent Beardsley


Do not mistake me for

comfort zones and safe spaces.

For the gentle whirring

of the washing machine and

slow dancing in old socks

on a late Thursday evening after work.

Do not mistake me for

dried lavender and incense sticks,

scented candles and 80s mixtapes.

For the comic books and

secondhand paperbacks of classics

and lentil soup served

in floral painted bone china.

I am not any of these beautiful things.


I am hospital bills and

unpaid leaves.

I am waiting rooms

and mood stabilizers.

Nothing about my body

looks like shared blankets

and pillow talk.

My body is a cold bed I want

to wake up from.

I am not your mother's lap.

I am not your ex-lover's shoulder.

I am not your way out of yourself.

Do not mistake me for

another soft thing you can

break and write poetry on,

because I am not that.

I am relaxed ambulances

heading home

from the morgue,

with the satisfaction that

there is nothing left

for you to kill.


Follow Megha's brilliant writing on Instagram.

 
 

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