my fingertips do not.

an excerpt from a poem about putting a stop to a relationship that hurt.

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

my fingertips do not graze

your upper thigh one last time.

vices do not suffocate if you abet

so i kiss the only scare i can see

and i parachute down, remembering

how light i feel when i fly.

floating like feathers —

a pirouette as day breaks.

an escapade from fiery tongue,

i exhale.

dawn welcomes me

at the skyline.

i drown my toes

in the himalayan sea.

my soul ablaze,

i am water.

you tried smothering me

but firestorms are

no match.

☽