…and so he touched me
At all the wrong places
(though not without my willingness)
But there was no express consent
Mr. Holy warrior, The prophet of arts
What did you do and why..
Why you had to touch
My poor vulnerable heart…
It hasn’t stopped smiling since then
And it hasn’t stopped crying since then
But you curled your lips beautifully
Brushing the matter aside
I requested, I protested
You seemed to understand
But as I looked elsewhere
You went ahead
And hugged my soul too
Ah! How I felt so pleasantly violated
As heaven embraced me through you.
But in the end, its all my fault
Why I don’t resist, why I cant stop
Counting these lovely temptations
The best among the gifts of God.
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