Last night, I looked outside the window
from apartment 5.
I took in the smell of moonlight:
dried up husks; rainy dew;
cardamom?
I heard footsteps-
the honks of traffic lights.
Red. Green.
Clattering in the kitchen-
the bed was empty.
I was here. No wife.
The air grew cold: it was summer.
I bit my nails,
the footsteps
grow louder,
despite the honks.
I closed
the window.
She came from behind,
the smell of blood.
I screamed, but laughter:
she handed me a cup of tea.
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Author:
PennedAI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 12th, 2025 10:06
- Comment from author about the poem: Would really like to see if anyone gets it😊 drop down ur interpretations
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments1
Not on the menstrual cycle was it? A real nail biter you got there.
umm that didn't cross my mind😭
It was supposed to be about doubt, suspicion and trauma, but now that u point it out😅
It is always amazing to me how people see different things in my poem than I the writer had in mind.
Couldn't have said it better, and perhaps that's the beauty of poetry: how what one might see as trauma, can be interpreted as menstruation😂
thank u for your insights
Most welcome
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