Poems by Shayeri Dasgupta

Hunger Beneath the Skin

 

 

I have tasted the marrow of love,

split open like a ribcage, bare and trembling,

where hands once cupped my face

but now carve out the parts they crave.

 

You feast on my words, licking the salt,

pulling syllables from my tongue

as if they were sinew—

as if hunger were the only form of devotion.

 

I give, I give, I give—

offering my ribs like a banquet,

watching you gnaw through the spaces

where I once kept my softness.

 

Tell me, when you are full,

when my echoes curl in your belly,

will you wear my ghost beneath your skin?

Will you remember how I tasted?

 

                          

A Moth's Lament

 

 

 

I orbit you—

a moth drunk on the gravity of a dying star,

wings tattered from chasing a light

that does not burn for me.

You are the sun at midnight,

too distant too warm,

too bright to touch,

a silent hymn the universe sings

but never answers.

I am the riverbed whispering to the rain,

thirsting for what will never stay,

drowning in echoes of a love

that was never meant to bloom.

You pass through me like wind through hollow bones,

leaving nothing but the ghost of warmth

that was never mine to claim.

And still, I remain—

a shadow stitched to your feet,

a lighthouse in a stormless sea,

a prayer unanswered,

yet whispered all the same.