She walks backwards

on days when enough isn't enough
on nights i stroll down the lane
over the unnamed territory of solitude
i sit over an unoccupied seat
and take out a thought from my half torn jacket, pluck
(-ing) suddenly as it gasps in pain
but it evolves into a fluttering dragonfly, swift and shrewd
bravely she walks upon the carcasses of disembodied
ideas suppressed by the buttons too tight

the dragonfly soars fearlessly sheltering all its might
listlessly tainting the sky with its light

upon the ruinous land, spreading the wings, going everywhere in her sight
softly and tenderly magic pouring all night

i lie down against the Bougainvillea paper on my bedside
memories mishmashed into clumsy letters breathe,
knocking over the ink stains and pages drizzling quietude
songs from the neighbours pane
in my ears they get stuck
my hands around the warm mug of coffee
a pressed rose falls from an unread diary, intrudes
my affair pricking a thorn on peace and sparking a hurricane,
on days when enough becomes enough.

©Sangfroid_soul

@piyuldwivedi
I suppose this could be read backward as well XD