By Krish Sharma
Wrapped in those white robes,
Like curtains on a candle.
Dishy vocals of her sound,
Personifying daisies in a sandal.
Complacent, clubby hands of hers,
Sliding down this ruptured throat.
Live for the smiles, grump.
Or so did she quote.
Alternation to my skin,
Her ecstasy blending into mine,
Pauses of breaths within pleasures,
Feeble "hmmm" became their signs.
Something luminous in her eyes,
A strong scent of stillness.
The her in me, symbolizing life.
Rest illuminating the illness.
Sugary lands she claims to live on,
Pearly smile doing the work of meth.
She respires any longer beside me,
And excess contentment will be my death.
By Krish Sharma
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