(From my poetry Collection 'Signatures')
Consequences
Her mouth unzips
like a crimson
pouch.
She lolls out,
the tongue tip
which makes
a fool flatten
on glancing at
her painting
the lips
looking at the
mirror
and turn
to throw
an arrow
of glimpse
over him
who enjoys
witnessing it
to confirm
whether the wound
made on
his heart
deeper
Vaiyavan
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