Her hair tangled like her heart
She walked through the aisle
Looking for customers, in need.
Her dress as dark as her skin,
Desire-filled eyes eat into her body
His hands on her naked skin,
Her soul untouched, face painted,
Character questioned,
He'd leave before dawn
In fear of being seen with her,
As she displayed in a tease;
Their hunger was her morsel
With yet another man, she leaves.
Then one night she chanced upon him.
He was looking for a story he had never heard,
She had aplenty, some cruel some funny;
They talked through the darkness into dawn
And they both knew it was just a start.
Days passed by, people teased,
She who was forbidden to love a man,
Had shown one her empty soul.
He was slowly filling it with wisdom;
Each night, he smiled and left a note.
The writer in him turned Poet for her,
He had found his rhythm and rhyme,
In her words, emotions and life.
Decorating pain in colourful metaphors
She was indeed poetry in motion.
© Suranya
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