Grey sour days
Make me aware
that the queue of hope
stretches long past infinity.
That I have been racy
and sometimes careless
and somehow feel more
the prickings of my
painfully ravaged virginal flesh.
And then I realise that
every consummated death
is a new beginning.
2 comments:
brilliant!
short but brilliant.
i liketh.
much more than the love poem.
this is second only to your bangla poem....the ondho machi one...
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