Storyteller

Storyteller

The world is filled with empty pages.

Many mistook her for one.

But she's different.

She transcends the routine game of pen and paper.

She moves around coyingly,

escaping deviant gazes.

Yet my lusty eyes never fail

to catch hold of her elegance.

She wears words like nobody else,

and spills herself in the shady ink

to write mischievous mysteries

on the canvas of my body.

Sonnets are a child's play for her.

She engraves them on my lips,

and seals them with her tongue,

and watches me lose myself.

She hides me in her tender flesh.

I drink her as she moans

sultry whispers and draws

a masterpiece of bruises.

Short verses are her ultimate prowess.

She empties me in minutes

and I lay wondering

as she walks away relishing me.

She isn't a storyteller,folks.

She's a story herself.

C Kumar