Testing the wind of
erotics on moons. I was
still stitching my wounds.
*
The strange longings,
surge towards waning ego
to grab intimate.
*
The mentor grieves
after the parting of pink lips.
Words would never come.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 10th, 2022 03:57
- Category: Nature
- Views: 6
Offline)
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