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      (iv) voice...
reverberating ultrasound syllables
moans...
her breath
ALL wax lyrical from her gold frond tongue
dripping maple syrup rhythm
all over
              & through me

gold rush pulsing in my veins
to the tune of a hypnotic narcotic. 
intoxication.

her tongue is an aspergillum
soaking me
from head to denim
in holy water
& my once bland arid gard...

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The invisible truth and

The voiceless words

Both are pertinent …still today

There was no escape route

Nor there will be one any day

Still I’m with your memories

Maybe not so memorable

Like the penned down words

Of the love poems

Or like the melancholic lovers

With the old photographs

Torn, yet not faded out completely

Mine was not so with...

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