My Ire

In Poetry
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It was you, It is you, It will be you
Why?
But why though?

Patenice in his eyes
Yet, come what may
My ire kneels down upon them.

The touch of his skin
Still, in one way or another
Calm down my anger.

Tolerance in his quirky smile
Yet, come what may
My ire drains away.

His gentlemanly behaviour
As always,
Yet deep down,
Isn’t it wrong of me to have him?

MANDIRA DE SILVA


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Sess poem