The Portrait
No one has ever
plunged in to her loneliness
purging the moss
of yesteryears
sealed false promises
on unquenched lips
ploughed bedsheets
mapping the maze of lust
tears swept eyelashes
coarse broken bangles
on the mirror
oozing days and nights
make an aborted collage
of stained sin
no one has ever
crept in to her canoe
cracking the pod
of yesteryears
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