Bengal

As soon as words leave her mouth, love turns to lust.

A Bengal tiger guards the now familiar pavilion

And stretches his elegance as soon as the adhaan is heard

The white silk wrapped around the four bed post tastes the parity in the wind

The red inked walls listens to their breathing getting heavier.

She can hear his clothes creasing, his feet on the dense Persian rug

With passionate modesty she looks away from him

And towards the Fourty Rules of Love she left on her bed

Without a word she feels the rosemary around his neck on her neck.

She feels her straw bed on her back.

She feels his regretful love on her lips. His bridled future on her breasts.

The Opening begins playing in her father’s voice in her head

She trembles in her lace gown when she witnesses divinity

The gold coins embellished with allegory cradles the wind

Creating rich sounds of The First Father.

It hides the vibration of her first unforgettable sharp breath.

But, the Bengal tiger’s ears perk up,

his sunbathed skin going wherever his bones go.

He silently walks through the grains of silk towards the enriched pavilion.

He finds both girl and boy undressed, on the Persian rug

Wrapped in wine sheets

blushes of red in their cheeks, pretending to be asleep.

He looks at her and  counts the threads beneath her shoulder.

And she opens her eyes to look at him

When she no longer felt his eyes on hers.

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Bengal

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