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Hickeys

◾Hickeys◾

The red prints in my skin,
clicked so many clues on your mind.
Some perceived me characterless,
& some tagged me with "Whore".
Still i don't pay a damn heed;
as i know they are the bruises of my love,
for they hold the passion we carry between us
& for they're the emblem of love's purity.
I know how beguiling it is to feel intensely,
to feel the love & heal the entire mind.
The prints on my shoulder & neck,
decorate the pious intentions the god gave.
He craved for my heart & reached to my skin.
I don't pity a bit for attempting this pure sin.
Who are the society to judge our love?
As we are bound with the loyalty's handcuff.
The unmapped trust destined into it,
crossing hurdles & bouncy alleys of throes.
The smoke of my skin got fused with him,
& our aromatic fume clogged your nose,
you all felt jealous with our bonds,
& burnt into the fire our hearts behold.
Hickeys are redolent bubbles breed flowers,
& turn your tongues a little bit sour.
I am proud of my reddish hickeys,
which frame our unison with seductive kisses.

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