The Sleep I Left, On Your Wrinkled Bed

Every yearning spent, was worth its while
In a tryst of vows, in the throes of pain
We sowed, our dreams, in a sin fertile
To reap, one day, its fruits profane!

You turned, your back on me, with a sigh
As though, an age, disremembered me
I measured, my each truth, with your lie
To bare, the fangs, of our rhapsody!

How etched, on time, two puckered skins
As two serpents, made love, o’er groans
A legend, of an orgy, of chagrins
When we devoured, our souls, to the bones!

…And the outrage, of love’s enigma
Went on, to the, last drop, of bloodshed
As the night was lost, to a spent chutzpa
And The Sleep I Left, On Your Wrinkled Bed!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra

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