Disclosed



Love, your hands are foreign to me.

A stigma trails behind every move

A suspicious motive

Your ugly agenda.

We make love

And I study wallpaper

The tension, Is unbearable.

In conversation, love dare not speak.

My heart discloses itself

A small black burn circle

On paper, through and through.

This gape is no different from death

Both predictable and demure

Full of emptiness,  it is no enigma-

And now we’re close as lepers.

My body, a shell

A tight curl at one side of the bed.

Contortionist, twisting away from you.

The explicit display of human integrity

Words, getting muffled

Lost in the shuttle

of a dead ear.

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