Passion Polaroid

We have chemistry,

A strangulating passion,

The kind which disturbs the peace even of the dead.

My blood has a mind of its own when she is around,

With her every touch, I bleed to death and then drown.

She holds me like a feather and then rolls like I am her weed,

She uses me bluntly, then lets me crave for her need.

But then who is she?

 

She’s a rodeo living with the bulls,

Flirting with women, while she kisses men.

She does not complicate her life with corsets,

She sews a cassock , and wears in cadence,

Without giving up on the feeling of being naked.

The startling thing about her,

Was the more she did away with conventions,

The more disturbing her beauty became,

and the more provocative she became to Men.

But then, one day we shared the very sentiment,

And we both arrived at the other side of our abandonment.

I was just a fate spent guy, who from being used so much,

kneaded with sweat and sigh, and there she was painting my glory,

like the grease in some armor, was her Knight.

I look for her hands, she aims for the lips,

I look for love, but she makes me more than love could ever be.

In rains I wait, besides her door, so the First touch, is simply me.

Our moments are simply it, we do not long to make a journey,

Our love blooming in shadows is simply our need to be.

Everyday I button myself, only to be broken down in a million pieces,

and then someday, when she be made into a classic,

Then only “We” will truly be.