Saturday, July 29, 2017

Left unsaid

"We never go places,
I want to see things!",
she said, wincing -
petulantly - like a child
biting into a raw mango.

I thought of the early
morning voyage we
took, south of your navel,
and of navigating my
way to your lips through
the commotion of
disheveled, undone hair.

I thought of the view -
you perched upright on a
white pillow, and the setting
sun casting aspersions all
the way down to your waist -
and of how the high tide
rumbled and then dissipated
anxiously, at the sight of you
carelessly unclasping your dress.

"Can we please go see things
now?", and we did, but I
never told you that your
smells and sighs, contours
and moans; the crevices
of your body, and the
corners of  your soul,
were more novel and more
charming, to me, than all
of the places in this world.

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