In the dead of night,
My fingers grope to reach you,
Dropping all the pretences of love
Making our bodies available to each other
Though only through a medium
The celluloid
Wanting to get over the covers and clothes
And then the curiosity got hold of me
Now in the dark I grope in dreams, turning the celluloid into you
Entangled limbs not mine, but ours
Only to touch
Smell
Hear your body...
Alas, digitalized bodies don’t even smell of celluloid.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Without Touching
Desiring frames tumble out of my FZ38
Revealing me
Some black here, some purple there
Otherwise shades of skin
Curves some ugly some sensuous
Without any alibi,
Or temptations
Temptation only of u materialising out of those pictures
Some hair there, some black here, and shades of skin
And those curls
And me again turning you into celluloid prints without touching those shades of skin.
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