Unlaced

You leave your shoes unlaced,
to scribble rhapsodies
upon the wishy autumn tepidity

your dandelion gasps tickle
my face, along
contours you run your warm tongue over
and over again –

in bursts of adolescence.

Retaliation-
drawing your shape in me
wanting more of fulfillness.
Primal satisfaction.

Tonight, I left civility
in the red lipstick case back home.

© Mohana Das

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