At your love

Pallor has spread on my forehead.

The brows, boas in shape, have drooped.

The lips, a boat in cut, have drooped.

The shoulders, a scale, have drooped.

The breasts, two pyramids, have hung.

The heart, fat with love, has shrunk.

The limbs weak, bangles slipped off.

You don’t see my agony.

To show you my waned body,

My modesty forbids me.

Your delay causes tension.

Hold my hand in public, soon.

Had I not lost my innocence

To you, I would not have pleaded.

27.01.2012