musing of a poetic artist!
Some nights, I travel my fingers through my hair and across my thighs, eyes closed, but head filled with visions of you.
Goosebumps like Braille, spelling your name, over and over and over, And over, And over...
I mimic your movements slow and steady but it is a shame that my eyes grow wetter than the world between my thighs, and it’s silly that I choke and cry on your name, again and again...
Sharmila's paintings can be seen in the following link -
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