telltale whiff

We got the rollicking for the telltale whiff

Of the savory roar of our teenage dalliance

In the liturgical hickeys that furl and flourishes

behind the tattering piles of blossoms

masterfully camouflaged behind the camera

I’m yours… then I whispered

at the nape of cold and satin-smooth pebbles

knelt on the marshmallows

Cloyingly sprawled across the sticky lips of

Pillowy clovers of the sky

Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids and hails from northeastern town Gorakhpur, U.P, India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids or crafts.

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