#077

you always startle me

even when there is so much to do
so many stars awaiting kisses
you fling your arms around
catch me unaware with
sharp suffocation-
………………warm skin warmer next to mine

and i am writhing
suddenly short of air

you fill me up- a repoussoir
that blacks all else

©Mohana Das

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2 thoughts on “#077

  1. Between poets perhaps there are no words nor none needed here that can encompass all the stars and not in their heat from the kissing forget how so near yet far in viewing my crystal snowflakes melt yet breathe within your art

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