We got the rollicking for the telltale whiff
Of the savory roar of our teenage dalliance
In the liturgical hickeys that furl and flourishes
behind the tattering piles of blossoms
masterfully camouflaged behind the camera
I’m yours… then I whispered
at the nape of cold and satin-smooth pebbles
knelt on the marshmallows
Cloyingly sprawled across the sticky lips of
Pillowy clovers of the sky
Published by Smita Ray
Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures along with her kids trying new recipes or crafting. View more posts
Originally published at http://thewideblue.wordpress.com on June 3, 2021.
