His hands on her neck... She asks not for lust..
Against the wall...even though she stands with nothing to win
Her soul pinned, a peck on her cheek, if you must..
Her love is not just sweat rolling on glistening skin..
Neither is it the valleys of her curves inviting his resistant eyes..
Her love is that which sees the futility of it all
In his truth and his lies..
And yet, she was at his call..
She beckons, yet distance still between separates and yet unites..
Till one day, he will know that she has gone and she was all.
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