Nostalgically
drawn
I stand
Stroking
the contours
Of your
face
Captivated by the
Fresh smell
of the after-shave.
Effortlessly
lips meet
With
tongues
Setting
fire
To the passion
Held in
check.
Dazzling
light
Knocks me
out of breath
Locked in
your arms
Rhythmically
we move
Till I wake
up
To find
myself
Lonely and
cold.
By Binita Jha
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