In the fixed time of our talk,
My hand robotically reaches the cell phone,
Fingers dance over the keyboard,
Without a guidance from my brain,
As if a memory chip is installed in them with
your number.
When you pick up the phone,
Your honeyed voice reaches my eardrum,
I feel the caress of your tender fingers,
Over my fast throbbing bosom;
My soul begins to fly in an ecstasy zone.
We begin an exciting expedition,
In the sphere of adoration,
An honest sharing of hearts and heartaches,
A process of reducing pain and augmenting
pleasure
Of each other.
When we talk, do you know what I wait to hear
from you?
More than your whisper of “I love you”
The three common words every love-talk contains,
I impatiently wait to hear your openhearted
laugh,
As a smile on your lips is all that matters
most to me.
I live,
In those few minutes of our conversation,
Exist,
For the next few hours in torturous wait,
To live again in our next contact..
lovely.
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