Saturday, April 13, 2013

The Love?

It perspired through the brow.

I love her like an open orifice,
Seeping my secrets in low.
But is it too slow –
For the water to rise off the ice?

May be,
As, I have an open heart
That she can read;
And like a naïve art
I do bleed,

In and out
Every day.

It perspires through my brow.

© rakesh k pandey

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