‘Gas Chamber’ Delhi

when my lover kisses me,
my teeth clash against hers,
she nibbles on the end 
of my tongue-
it leaves me breathless

(she swallows all the air in my lungs)

her nimble fingers wipe off
the remnants of my lipstick
from her face, as black as the soot
on her dress-
it reminds me of death

(someone’s choking, but no one’s dialling 102)

she stares at me, from under
hooded lids, with unfocused eyes,
a weakened glare daring me 
to question her disarrayed state-
it makes me feel guilty 

(humans deflect guilt with anger; i’m pissed at my lover)
her pants become louder,
and she can’t inhale 
without her rasping voice 
exhaling obscenities-
it leaves me confused

(confusion is a state of not understanding; i understand it all)

she can barely stand, 
and my silence 
has finally reduced her
to tears, ashes and smoke,
the victory is bitter-
it leaves behind a nauseous taste
on the floor of my mouth
alongside her limp form

(thank you for your prompt response)

i can’t breathe,
and neither can she 

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