She in me wrote a fat book....by her talks...

She spent several years
With me...talking it out...filling my ears...
She filled me by her talks...
Her Dahlia dreams...
Her tuberose whitish green...
Her past love affairs...
Her vacant mind's layers...
Her novel unwritten...
Her nights' groans bitten...
Her sunny brightest morn...
Her remembrance of a formidable song...
Her days of walking past
Her love, her chaos, her secretive lust...
Her hopes...her tears...
Her getting a strong hard slap...
Her blackish tears...
Her longings...her spaghetti top...
Her bathroom cleaner...her big wide mop...
Her travelogues...
Her lighthouse tall...
Her Virginia Woolf...
Her Great  Great Fall...
Her Subscriber's Information Module-
Lost in water...
Her nom de plume
Of a paperback writer...
Her vision of passions
Kisses moist and tensed...
Her writing it up with fingers
On smoky glass of a casement...
Her clothesline thin and hanging...
Her nights of  party...all head banging...
Her pedicure...
Her hot water bath...
Her broken heart sure
Her Jean Paul Sartre...
Her 'A few Good Men'...
Her flooded lane...
Her lotus flowery pool
Her neighbouring trees...
Her coconut leaves...
Losing dupatta in a breeze...
Her dreams of being a man...
Her  life protestant...
She said it all...
To me after nightfall...
Several years it took...
She in me wrote a fat book...
By her talks...