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Whisky In Oval Glass

Oval glass
Like your waistline 
Touches my fingers

Whisky in it 
Pretty hard
Soften with
Swing ice cubes
Glitters with cold 

Sipping by lips
Like your ****
Taste in love
Fuddled feelings
Slowly lie down

Your glance
Being an image in it
Concavely looks at
While filling up
With another ice cube

Desire reminds
Like talking your eyes
In a short time
Empty glass
Looks at me

In a moment
I stand up
And go for a cigarette. 



Udaya R. Tennakoon

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Date: 1/20/2013 7:19:00 PM
GO for that Cigarette!Beautiful poem!!!Love this.
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