You are like a drug.
Even the smell of your hair
Makes me drunk.
The sight of your face
Makes me numb.
Sound of your laughter
Makes me faint.
I know I would die in you.
But it's that death
I long most.
Those who say death is ugly
Do not know
Dying while sleeping on women's bosoms
Is another kind of death.
© Arun Maji
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem