It was one, of those, winter rains
When blanket, seeks the, warmth of skin
He knocked, with nails, my window panes
Who would, have divined, this tryst of sin!
He gaped, at me, thru the, coffee haze
And sent, a shiver, down my spine –
“What you call, a manhood, one that strays
Beyond, world’s precincts’, thin red line!”
He bared, his skin, to my soul’s chagrin
And pled, to me, his crestfallen lust
“I am a man, with a, woman within
Don’t christen ‘sin’, my love august!
The prudence, of my, manhood roared –
“Better learn, from beasts, laws of passion…
How an age, of shame, could I afford
If I, led astray, my compassion!”
A letter came, from that, girlish lad
Drenched in the stench, of last night’s semen
“Do come, to see, your lover clad
In the shroud, of ‘sin’ – ‘love bohemian’!
As he had wished, I dressed in black
For the funeral, of a love, not to be
And blessed, his lips with, a brazen smack
The GAY, Who Fell, In Love, With Me!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra