The Day
Perhaps no sensible alphabet will handle my pen that day
On that day, no black words will graze on the white note book
No imagination will contact my consciousness that day
Then maybe one day I will not write any more poems
The day I’ll touch this dissolute pair of your lips on my lips
The day I’ll make wave of warmth kiss to your ever spring chin
The day my breathing will find liberation in this intoxicated body
The day I find myself in the monarchy of your lustful eyes
12.07.2020 Chattogram
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