Thursday, October 10, 2013


A writer by profession
She writes many a story line
Reality not favoured
Imagination is required

The gaze of naked eyes
Caught feasting on the human form
Two seconds, too long, is quite enough
To start her off

Or perhaps eyes veiled
Shrouding blatant lust
The desire to strip,
To expose and bare

While she starts her
Story line with grand aspiration
Desire is a tragedian
And sadly bares too much

Desire is sweeter in the mind
The whispered words of affirmation
More seductive in the thinking
Than in the saying

That kiss so slow
And sensual
Lips so tentative, the tingling

Is just the burning
Left over, from last nights
Dinner of

Chilli paste

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