What profit will you get?

What profit will you get

out of hiding from me?

I’m right here, and I want you.

Those fantastic eyes—do you want to lock them in a bank?

You don’t even raise your head to look at me.

Do you think you can invest that amazing smile at a good rate?

I can’t get you to smile at me.

What profit will you get?

Those towering breasts—are you going to put them in a vault?

You’re hiding them under your sari.

Are you planning to hoard underground

the full bloom of your youth?

You keep so still under your veil.

What profit will you get?

You want to stash away words instead of spending them in love?

You don’t even move your lips.

You belong to me now, and I—

I’m God.

At last we can do business.

What profit will you get?