Blowing Wind

her long black hair
slides on his thigh
and rests there

her luscious lips plays
a game on him

he is not in peace
he is at war with desire

she takes his grief inside
her mouth

he gives in hoping that
this can be a temporary solution

she thinks of someone she
truly loves

his mind wanders among the
clouds that hang on the ceiling

in their wanderings
their eyes never meet.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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