(Image Source: Google)
I coin my erotic hymn,
Hidden under the scrolls of Valmiki.
The sylvan emotions drew
The vagrant,
You theorized as my name.
I buried my desires
In a tureen,
You called my erotica.
But it was not our Amarusataka
or an amoretti I would sing to you
On an evening;
Checkered with riot.
The words are not my alibi
To imprison you under the sunset;
Neither an offering–
A submission adding electrons
to your machismo;
But rather are expressions
Which conjugated with yours
In a truce Valmiki denied,
Suffering as leftover petals,
The ants got tired of eating.
#Day22; Poem 22
Crystallasia 