being brown

It is always as it seems

My eyes are pulled down

And stapled through

My hands are tied behind

Stretched to the other end

You sit on top and say

“this is nothing but love”

When do staples become roses,

Coloured by the red they pierce?

Do tethers ever become pleasure,

When they are tied on the other end?

Never.

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2 responses

  1. Laxmi Singh

    I pretty mch liked the thought sumanya!

    March 21, 2012 at 4:55 pm

  2. thanks, Laxmi! welcome to my blog. And do keep coming back.

    March 22, 2012 at 7:26 am

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