The hungry lips starved for a kiss,
The ***** sour smell inhaled,
The silent mourns heard,
The fingers teased the pelvis,
Sweats scrolled down from
the behind of her ears, and
The moist tongue tickled
the collar bones, The warmth
of her nearness, the touch
of her lovely long fingers,
the husky voice of her heart,
Whispered ' Make Love to me'.
More close I got, The far
her soul tried to escape, as
the innocent little she, had
sufficient enough to fear,
Eager souls waited to merge,

The stars were not beautiful,
Just pale presence of light.
Only a blind knows the
colour of black. She, the
blind lady, bright of love,
Yet, afraid, of the souls
to merge within the
darkness that prevailed.
A story far back from now.
Only there was time,
That might have healed.
Yet in the end, The souls,
have submitted gladly...