Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

And then it rains.


And then it rains.
In disregard.
Cares not, it shall spoil.
My dry thoughts,
Them Hanging neatly off your life,
Them Stuck onto the diaphenous, pink, punk
Almost pornographic negligee,
The veil that covered you from others,
Entwined me unto you,
And threw me off,
My balance, fluttering away,
Like a rag just blown off,
The nosy neighbours clothesline,
With bite hickeys of Hideous steel clips.
Yet it feels good, to be drenched,
A shade away from being drunk in your deluge,
The youth of your thoughts bisecting through,
The narrow, hollow and insignificant walls,
Of men.
Those who chose to stood by,
And see you slither past,
Not wanting a bite

Hardik Mahesh Vaidya

Submitted: Friday, April 18, 2014

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Topic(s): love

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