Tuesday, February 20, 2018

BECOMING OF LOVE


The dew of my life, glisten
With four folds eyes
How I not amber the roots
In greenery of thy love 

I seek no pleasure nor joy
But a painful craving
To pine you in my love 
What is wound without a pain 

My birthing sprouts with a cry
Umbelical to your attachment
How innocently I suck the milk
More motherly becoming of my love

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