Clothes slid away in slow motion,
soft glow glances of unbearable desire
drew us into paralysed embraces.
When I replay those dead moments
of laughter and lust in my head
Like a ghost haunting its own funeral,
Your kisses hold my very core.
Hair, fingers, feet and palms
Shy swell of your soft skin
Quench a thirst that I brought along
When emerging from a womb alone.
But, loneliness is no ghost after all
to haunt our unwedded nights and days
And ghosts do not exist after all
nor does lust haunt laughter these days
No comments:
Post a Comment