The Quality

He knows me too well,
He has seen me often.
He knows I move about
Like an adult; like a woman,
Yet I kiss like a child;
Asexual and indifferent.

He calls me frigid;
Adjusts his bites as kisses.
His fingers tremble and whimper
In the depths of my hair,
As he ventures to
Thrash his bone against mine.

He stands up angrily,
Yet turns away in a hollow
Silence of loneliness.
I creep into my knees,
Nuzzling my face in
The folds of my palm,

Breathing away the fever of
His hunger… his hurt.
Perhaps, this man knows me too well;
For, he has opened me enough,
And I’ve finally lost the need to
Reach into my mind, ever again!

Now Playing:: Chand roz aur.......................Kishore Kumar