Doomsday Fantasy

Caught in a doomsday fantasy
as fear grabs me a little tighter
a sweet twinge of pleasure
turns death into a doting sweetheart.
Prayers suck the air of my lungs,
all hopes shake and wither,
infected lover awaits at the door
as I gasp and choke in my home.

I cover my ears from his seductive song,
Wrap a stole around my aching mouth,
my skin twitches for his feathery touch
but I won’t let him in for whole two months.
I may collapse for I doubt my knees’ strength
but I have to rehearse my resolve.
If he is still there when this madness becomes a norm
I might let his antennae suck my nipples.

– Google Images


8 Comments Add yours

  1. Lia says:

    Yes, well grasped, many of us women are (perhaps rightfully) trained by society to protect ourselves by withholding, in spite of twitches for touches. That would likely hold true by habit even in a doomsday situation, and especially with death itself. ;)) Beautifully penned, except I feel the last line (“I might let his antennae to suck my nipples”) makes the whole thing a bit confusing. Is the visitor outside the door an alien? and its antennae plan to suck the nipples? (Maybe only the “to” needs removing?) Please forgive my confusion… hope you don’t mind the honest feedback… and thanks so much for “liking” my post. That was kind. ❤︎

    1. NEKNEERAJ says:

      Thank you Lia for leaving the feedback. I took your advice and removed the “to”. I didn’t notice it was there, thank you for pointing out.
      Well, the lover in this poem is the virus (or can say a virus infected boy), and two month’s time is the isolation. Antennae is just a hyperbole. =)

    2. Lia says:

      Ah ok cool, thanks!

  2. Macrine Jangu says:

    amazing piece.
    If i was to comment in one word…id say


  3. That’s the madness from one being in love! Awesome! 🙂

  4. Colleen says:

    Reblogged this on Poetry is a Verb! and commented:

    Creativity at its best!

    1. NEKNEERAJ says:

      Thank you Colleen for the reblog.

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