Ekanto Golap


A hand dressed in red,
pulling out fire from a 
coffin shaped box.
It looks like love,
but smokes like ruin.

The nail polish gleams
careful, seductive,destruction  
dressed in elegance.
And maybe that’s all we ever hold
things that kiss our lips,
then hollow our lungs.

A devotion in disguise,
a poison i kept calling warmth.
Even desire tastes metallic,
Every silence after your name, 
like blood at the back of my throat. 

The mirrors whisper
of all the ashes I’ve swallowed,
the petals that turned to dust
before I could call them mine.

I whisper, it won't kill me, 
Yet my hands are already stained.
Nicotine, longing and you. 
Everything burns before it begins.

I am beauty and ruin in the same breath. 
To love me is to inhale smoke,
to bleed from a thorn, to hold fire 
disguised as a flower.
I am the ekanto golap. 

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