The thrust of his beard between my thigh the tickling of his tongue Around my thigh gap with his hands exploring the contours of my bossom squeezing the erection of dark graves
He enchanted a new dance motioning our bodies in sync while I had let myself be devoured by his enraging lust and let my juices be savoured by his hunger.
homelessness is a place a hollow hallway going through the depths of your heart and it aches it pricks from the edges it oozes out an inpalpitable an insidious pain
when you leave a home in hope of another with every change your body goes through this hollowness deepens until it starts consuming the whole of you until you start realizing that once you leave a home you dont get another and you become
...and many such who live in mutely dead bodies awaiting real death in hope of being missed at best for they live believing they're to be blamed for being too less to be loved.
....yet I beg to be thought of as someone who could sit straight and scribble some stories which are meaningless like how it's futile to feel heart broken for many dusks and late nights and yet fail at writing poems about it.
I let you question so much about what I held so hard, and the night I quashed into your arms under breeze of ten degrees I knew I'd let you steal the bulky breathes I'd often gulp seeing your eyes as deep as your questions.
Let's count constellation both of us can see on the sky we share, let's write each other a song with fourteen hundred fifty syllables and let them fly through what our bodies cannot.