Let the creepers climb,
freely, up the walls,
and kill the gloss,
the made up beauty,
powdered light brown,
decked in rouge n blush,
and some fine talc,
the Taj Mahal white.
Damn the surreal estates,
cover it with moss,
till the signals turn green,
till we glow bright and right.
Then we will make love,
breathing hard
the fresh n scented
alien air.
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| credit: mydigitalfc.com |
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