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Rating: 5.0

I see the sun setting between my legs,
its warmth descending
into the lips of the night.
The language of love-
and such have been her demands-
commands separation.
And so the lips part.
In a tight, calculated contraction.
My tiny lips part to swallow the sun.
The mouth is open wide

and inside,
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Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: love
Fabrizio Frosini 12 October 2016

both poems - your first 2 here - are very good ones. Thanks for sharing and keep on posting..

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Shivangi Mariam 12 October 2016

Thank you, Mr. Frosini! Your words are kind. There is no poem worth a martyr, a madman said once. And I add, there is no poem like mother's fingers which knead the daily bread, no words like the stars extinguishing in oblivion as the moon continues to shine...

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Brother Sadeeq 12 October 2016

Nice one . i think a title will do good, for this one.

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Shivangi Mariam 12 October 2016

Thank you for reading my words. I would be interested in knowing what title you would suggest. This poem came to me many nights back, with moon stinging my fingers, I wrote...

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