Vague/ Ambiguous?

Unruly as I am tidy
as you are

Bright light in small
cups which might
have been filled
with sweet thick milk

Love like payasam
thick and wholesome
and nauseous
when had too much

You play with the
tips of my fingers
and the ends
of my toes

Would it take an
archaeologist to
scrape all the surfaces
of verbose poetry

To find a little story
that was buried
beneath all the
time in the world

Mostly what survives
civilization is pieces
of baked mud maybe
with some paint

If love is the same
as that
baked and painted over
then it will breathe

Gently till a thumb and
and index pull it
out into the same cup
of light.

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