Thursday, September 25, 2014

Dry Paper

Empty words
fall for ream after ream of blank paper:
creamy, rich,hollow.
She, with baggage,
(those selective wounds
of no consequence)
chooses to breathe
day after day,
in busy days
and in forgotten dreams
of tired nights;
And 
He, 
with words,
as vacant as 
his eyes,
all sparkle stolen,
angry, repulsed
seductive,
conjoin in moments 
of inky wetness
like tears 
that soften 
with abrasive salt
the dry cheek
of a lonely mother

© Geetakshi Arora
September 25, 2014

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