The time had burned to ashes,
As he lowered his mouth to utter the word of splendid instructions.
I concentrated so much on his eyes that his lips touched mine.
And slowly his hands made symbols in the vague air-space;
Those were not mere movements, they were touches caressing my burden soul.
I saw his ripen nipples, they were like the trees of God's garden.
I wanted him so much, but he was just like a graduation picture- the glass of loneliness was between us....
It is a tragedy that,,,,,,the one for whom I wrote this poem is unaware of it. And for those for whom the poem was not written are more vocal about it.......
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