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Feb 2014
Her perfume fills the air
she is not that fair
next to me devouring my thought
sits the woman a harlot.

By my side in the bus
a traveler of different class
I sit engrossed in her thought
she's a woman then harlot.

I imagine in pensive thought
when a harlot what she's not
what's her lot to force a choice
to let ravagers in her rejoice.

A harlot then she isn't good
not decent is her attitude
she smells of cheap perfume
she reeks of ****** gloom.

I let my thoughts roam free
how otherwise she could be
what if she wasn't a harlot

*yet her body not mind was bought!
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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