husband dearest

i am tired.

my nerves have frayed edges, crumbling to touch.

the harder the moth thrashes, the more brown fairy dust you'll find on your hands,

(and you'll never recover without a scat kink)

i’m like a sewer rat, a modest one,

scurrying away from you now, busy, in a hurry, etc.

go on, be kind, say it's ‘like the wind.’

startled birds have odd grace to their flight (it’s the grace i’m asking for)

my mother talked me into this, i wish she could have known,

but karan johar said “trust is rare, and dhoka everywhere”, so whoever found a pen, signed a contract.

so here’s the next contract, exit- mynah,

i hope tomorrow morning finds two in your balcony,

you're the prettiest girl when you try, and let nobody tell you otherwise,

some knots are firmer and older than you know,

if you pull too hard, you'll never unravel,

the time of the world is in the eyes of a cat,

but i can't roll up to my belly,

so please take my back.