Shishir Chaudhary

Anatomy of a Kiss

It’s a foggy night. Yellow street lights. The labial commissures of your face are rain drops. I am a dehydrated varmint. The edge of your modiolus is mokshā. I am a suffering soul.
It’s a foggy night. Yellow street lights.
The labial commissures of your face are rain drops.
I am a dehydrated varmint.
The edge of your modiolus is mokshā.
I am a suffering soul.

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