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The Feast


Perhaps the fall
designs the dreams
to sip warm desire
out of the melting pot
of not so amicable
arousal
the leaves fall
as nonchalantly as possible outside
but when i go down
and drink the
very organic you
your sublime intellectual
banter escapes into a shell
and the dormant whispers
get submerged into a crescendo
when the sip becomes profound
It is thereafter not a sip anymore
but a luxurious lap
deeper than what the autumn can convey
and you spread the feast
casually
you are the conductor
the host, the torment
music spreads like orgasm
slow, seductive, serendipitous
and my flavours get changed
different colours of decadence
spread their wings
Interestingly, it is you
who wants it to go on
till the leaves
don’t stop falling
my thirst
has just warmed up
the tongue still mildly lubricated
I need to drown
It till I am fed
with you

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