Incontingent

The venom cold, concealed,
      Electronic emotions,
Proceeding, her eyes become vacant

The crease of beauty;
    Spread across her face;
Opening up gates to her masquerade

            Violent red, smearing;
Screams contorting, breaching up another postern
Tears pale, another shimmering storm conjured

              Segments of her fears;
Lie upon muddy portals of arsenic delusions,
She says all her ending are subsequently sublime

Desires droop and wilt;
      In the birth of indulgence,
The swallowing cry, from bars of entrapment, echo…

The dawn of opportunity gleaming;
        The mirroring tragedy invigorating,
Her struggles become Blood Divine in moments of deliverance

      Ignored, neglected, haunted;
Alive in the shadows of askance;
Like white cyanide blazing through fragile veins

        She says, “All my endings become subsequently sublime”

By Nisha Mirza