Of Being Deflowered

On a slate of marble whence

death’s every breath froze.

From Santa’s carriage fell,

snow rolled in hands of elves.

Thy mortal ground hallowed.

Its odor like wild fire spread

swallowing beings all; to please

a virgin spirit came the dish.

Scent of a fear asphyxiating,

whilst her call - sinner’s wish.

romance the rain, drench in it

fear not the cold’s skirmish.

Thwack! came the ice pick

as it cleaved a fragile heart.

Bleeding vanilla my soul

at the holy altar came apart.

the inevitable

the inevitable

Into bloodied rifts now flowed

chocolate- molten lava brown.

Like sensuous tickling iodine’s

fingers into a bruise’s gown.

Almonds slyly roasted now met,

their walnut brothers so small.

Thus showered meteors; lighting

my skies with every golden ball.

Art done, the bride sat glittering

in a heavenly mix of colors myriad.

Decked on caramel vessel, she came    

with a skin moist and makeup clad.

Glances gulped down the throat

raised the bar of emotional blues.

As I now stripped the virgin coat,

there lay a dream in mystic hues.

ps: This poem is a second-by-second play of the roller coaster you ride right from the moment you enter heaven to the jolts of electricity your olfactory senses survive and in all, the weird thrill of experiencing your taste bud salvation to an ice-cream. The explanation in detail of the making is highly experience based so I ask you to just dig into it.