Wish 'twas my red
Niraj wrote a poem, he says.
I want to share it, say I.
Does it mean something to you too, I wish he asks.
And I don't reply...
I am waiting...waiting for a dot of vermillion,to appear on her forehead..and no, it won't be my hand..which make that blessed dot.
The red of vermillionwill redden her face...or will she blush..no..no..will I blush?will I blush from my Shame.Shame 'cause I will be the one,who failed herand one, who wouldn't bare his soul to her..
The red of vermillionwill remind me of my red dreams..red with passion..red with romance...and red with red "the stop sign".stop, so as to save my soul from the shame'cause it's nakedit's naked in the harem of worldwhere eveyone is bathing.....nakedand none of them are aware of this...And I am such an ingorant..who knows that he doesn't knowthat he's naked....
The red of vermillion,will remind me of the blood...Blood that stains the bedsheet on that night....on that night of bliss.Wish I could own the bedsheet, which you stained.Wish I could....
Pic Courtesy: http://noisypilgrims.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/img_5822_4.jpg