By fireside of your winter palace,
draped in thin sable pelts
ousting passion,
on rarified echelons
we scribble poetry with inks of love
dripping leisure wine
in finery rhyme
on appallingly lovelorn sheets
You and I,
in sinful collusion and lacerated rubs
loving me all nights,
you set fire to the rains of winter
hanging me out, drained and dried
and
wanting for more …
Finger brushes to kissing tongues
the bittersweet gospels of dear love
oozing desire,
stumbling out of war-zone
into my heart
the kafkaesque beauty,
in audacity of your love
hypnotic as sharpened guillotine
you have me there,
don’t you !
in a limbo, too far trodden
and
wanting for more …
Disdain of your practised apathy
your heart, once my getaway,
now an unyielding fortress,
stuck in frenzy
the tidings of love,
in ephemerality, of moonlit night
it’s hurting to have them
yet they are my own
this tempo, of unreciprocated love
there’s a call to this sadness
a beauty, to this pain
I rejoice, in knowing
and
.
.
.
wanting for more …
©️ Rainman 2020
