There are many ways to find
true love. This is just
one of them.
Palms on shoulder blades, holding
on tightly, like oyster ribs;
your chin snugly nestled into the hollow
of my chest, like a gosling
come home. I can hear your heartbeat
and smell the fragrance of your
freshly washed hair.
Somewhere, night falls.
But we have no need
for words – subtlety has
its own tongue,
and we have learnt
As mischievous as romance may be –
an embrace must always
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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