From A Lover's Eye

O thou it's not your crazy love that I crave for

It's the affection that I lavish to

It's the winding of warm blood that I slurp

It's the drug that I could do

And still be on rehab happily regretting.

It's the smell of eloquent perfume , O dear.

For whom, who is dead to all is alive breathing silly.

The pupils that rests heavenly

The eyelids that ornates them

The shine of hope that burns me 

Is the heat that warms thee

The cuddle and the hugs that feels one

The eloquent voice that speaks no bound

The moans that makes no sound.

The spring could be near

While it's midnight

And the beloved devil's watching the closing door

That drop of sweat that touches the floor

As you tenderly expound the true colours

That remains permanent more than any feelings

That will ever be explored.

When I truly love on

I want you to 

In the golden afternoon

Lavender evening

I wish I had you

I wish to be a little more selfish

For I want you to be mine and only mine.

It's not about just us, its we who are beyond

Any fantasies that makes the readers burst

It's beyond any perfectionist would call perfect

The glory of your touch be the reward of triumph

While I rest on my couch, as if they have got it all

Certainly not exactly what I mean

And hold the drink to quench the thirst.

The egalitarian me now a selfish moron

Importune the wise Jesus with questions of lust

Expecting a copacetic response 

From what does not exists for who is relative 

Hoodwinking whom ? Thou shall know

For the lass who knows it all I ruth the serenity.

I sit by escritoire throbbing my thoughts.

The mere thoughts of ethereal adulation

Of an altruistic seraph who once of serendipity

Born to be epiphany inevitably an euphoric being

The frantic me who now finds is all dizzy

Scripts down a frantic poetry and solicit .

You who reads, drink your cabernet ostensibly

Ostentatious yet potent connoisseur will stand.

And I shall squander every love that I feel

From here obliterated quipped amble.

An affable night in a frosting room, a closed door

Malicious feelings, overwhelming resentment 

For the adept piece of love

That I shall admire with elation

As long as I live to breathe and beyond.