a poem by Aanavi Malik

I bubble below my skin,
a bisque vile liquid.
as it sends agony to my eyes.

A little nudge,
Woah saucy inspiration
and unfettered, my tongue flies.

Hatred is a discomfort
like a haemorrhage.
Incompletely healed.
Yet so potent, so hot.

Clings to me like wax,
like honey,
molten chocolate
Itching to let go but cannot.

The same way,
Give me the sun
And maybe I could believe
Your major zygomaticus lines

But when you carry
Banishment like a medal.
From your feet,
you flow for miles.