This poem is written by Taskia Alam and shared with The Ugly Writers for the month of July.
Written poems over your name;
while you mark down your love under my skin with alcohol-rubbed needles.
I’m your harmonica;
That plays her chores in order.
This tragic October.
Melancholic haze sinks in the air.
My discolored skin, like a dry rose.
Under this roof,
you play the role of a gaslighter.
Stitches our tattered bond every doubtful night.
But your lies, keep ripping us apart.
The curtains patch our battles from the world to hear.
Even now I hold us together.
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