Something special to someone.

Lahore, Oldie but goldie, Poetry

Masked, she walks
With a measured gait,
With innocence & virtuosity
Hiding the crime that feeds her.
Stars beg her to walk
Beneath their gaze,
To see the puppet’s frantic dance
In the dark maze.
& the earth trembles in pity
Beneath her dainty steps,
Burdened with a need,
Numbed with a need.
A few calculated words
Change her direction,
Put a spring in her step,
& butterflies in her stomach.
Anticipating a short brutal spell,
Unhurting, ecstatic battering,
Matching ,only, the accelerating rhythm,
Not the will, not the desire.
All to put an ache out of the belly,
& into the heart,
That longs no more for desire,
& aches no more for hope,
& hopes no more for
A simpler time & place,
Where it would all mean
Something special to someone.
Only one a night,
& not a crime to hide from the sun,
& not to walk alone,
As a living wraith of morality,
& hunger, need, desire & trial,
Of men in oblivious sobriety,
& might of men, wealth of men,
& the starvelings on the street.



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