Prose & VersePubs

guilt

A locked door,
Bolted safe from inside,
away from prying eyes.
Hands reaching out to each other.
flesh meeting flesh,
blood racing on flushed skin,
muffled voices,
whispered love notes,
bated breath
sweaty drops of contentment.
A loud bang,
not just a knock,
startled bodies,
hasty hands groping in the dark
to resume pointless masquerades.
Does it matter if one of them was him
Does it matter if both of them were her!
The hyenas would hunt down the preys nonetheless..

Author: monami mukherjee

Poet, Blogger, Undergrad Professor. Literature and film enthusiast. Excited about both critical and creative writing.

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