À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

In the midst of an illusion, I howbeit taste your flame along my bones,

I trace the crevices of my palms, Let the acerbity of their affronts atone

my ornery deeds,

On candorous moments, I whisper a repentance, abashed, ill at ease

on these blue devils,

I’ve been indolent to cede my woes,

Fettered to its familiarity I’ve plunged in a vehement despair,

In a perpetuum chase of your burn.

I roam my hollow hopes and lounge in their «perhaps»,

Repriever of my dastardly deeds, I loathe your altruism for it’s sincere,

I feast my heart out prying out your facade, oblivious to my own

performance of a sacred penance,

I’ve weakened the bone of my home You have me so execrable,

Appetent to your lily white heart, Dearest to all, blind they are to your

flaws I bury myself in this shame, repugnant of your ways. Praising

your flame, though it’s a play.’

I sip the light every night as you split my temple and set me alive,

cleanse me, wring me into something sacrosanct.

Something they have yet to aver

Do you feel it, too?

Sleeping idly below his waves,

Set alight by his blaze, I flourish by his grace. Eonian devotee.

Stone me the phoenix, asleep on a pyre of hate.

Bio

Eimaan Malik

Artist at heart and passionate about the art of writing, she is a young Mauritian woman who seeks to break the monotony of blank pages with verses tinged of a touch of black ink, captivating echoes of empathetic melancholy