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.