Mahaba Ashiki

Indecision, our torque that propels us to a night of spontaneity.

Our steel ship constrasts the softness within.
Soft eyes hazy with love, laser winks
and soft hands warm with sensual tips

Sirens spark our touch with their jazzy song,
Finger tips play tag like children on a fire-fly night.

But our steel ship now traps us,
and monotony creeps in to tickle our toes in a slow succession of torture.

Unforeseen friction has interfered with our indecisive propulsion.
Reality rises as my silky sins set.

Calls are made without consultation,
and the ones discussed are dragged to their graves without a dirge.

~Shreena