­­THE LAST PRIVATE REALM
       
     
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­­THE LAST PRIVATE REALM
       
     
­­THE LAST PRIVATE REALM

From June to July

The monsoon hit,

Rocking all boats in the harbour

Of our embrace.

Beyond Mondays,

Between heartbreak and indecision

We rise at dawn’s request

And rinse ourselves of ethereal body,

Of corporal compromise.

Kissing with tongues the cousin of death

The earth people came in silence,

Taking respite from consciousness

In the last private realm.

You came to me in a dream.

We stood at opposite ends of a room,

Shedding tears that met in the middle.

I held up my hands in surrender,

As if it could be a profession

To be possessed by weakness…

Your nakedness,

Blinding.

Deep breathing with the tide

The honey moon dips below the horizon,

I wake and search for the smell of your touch through my sheets.

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