"next season's ruining"
as the secretive wind swept across the desert camouflaging your camouflaged blouse,
i moved before you with such tender devotion.
your eyes consume me
and without pause, our history gives quiver
to but a mere girl.
privileged palm touches your chest
and communicates for tear filled lips.
being prostrates before all that has been,
all to unfold
and to the garden
of extraordinarily piercing thorns
for next season's ruining.
shukran jazeelan ♥ Sahib
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
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