HOOKS OF HER BLOUSE

They conspired
Her thighs and her hot liquid
balloons in cahoots
against me, I invited her
to play on
my chest; She made my chest
a trampoline,
She held my Liquid –
Dagger, dried it all up and got me
exhausted till
such extent that I couldn’t
protect my fragile hourglass,

My fragile hourglass betrayed
my hands, slipped into
the ruins, malfunctioned the time
forever.

Got stuck it now keeps rewinding the same odd twenty minutes.

She carried finesse in her moisture and
she took away
my consciousness with her, tucked
in the hooks of her
blouse and left me trying
to restart this halted
time from beyond the reach of any icicled
clock needles, betting on my luck
with three dices
each representing
different units, as she is
on my skin
still unstill.

Image by Emilia Wilk @ EmiliaWilk.com
Image by Emilia Wilk @ EmiliaWilk.com
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