Wednesday, March 30, 2016

She's water.

Her bassinet was made of water.
Ganges, Brahmaputra and Meghna blessed her,
the bay of Bengal opened her the faucet to the world.

Would that explain how easily I slide on her skin?
Would that explain, this need of diving her?

Her way of being, a water explosion…
The truth in her eyes, spatter of life…
Drop by drop calms my thirst,
drop by drop I’m more thirsty.

Would I get soak on dreams?
Would I suffer floods on my soul?
I know… as a faucet shall open, a faucet shall close.

Yet while opened, drinkable.

While drinkable, livable.

While livable, truthful.