Treasure Island

Pradip Chattopadhyay

(28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

Flesh Hunter


He waited breathless
In the darkness
That sliced his body
Into million sparks.
The world spun
For invading touches
That could have been
Her kisses,
The stars shone
That could as well
Be the gleams in her eyes,
The wind smelled
Fragrance of flowers
That would soon wilt.
He got up to go,
A resolute man,
Blindly fearless,
For hunting out prey
That could never be his.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, April 24, 2013

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