TINCTURE OF SIGH

‚ÄčOnce for the guy who slapped her ass,

Twice for the one who had a personality crass,

She sought placidity on beds with switched off lights.

Until she met the one who gave her soul the delight.

And that guy on a dusky night,

With a glass of wine and a tinge of sigh,

Watched her ruin her mascara as she cried and cried,

Tears of joy, and tears of agony,

Those of fear, laughter and misery…

Trailed from her eyes to his blotched heart,

And eventually she learnt that, being naked, is an exotic art.

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