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I lounge
In the recesses of
The mirror of mine
She gets aglow with
those tempests of Yours
you make neat
The love
Space
Of mine
You enkindle
The apple
Tree,
The fruits of hers
hence fall down,
In sheer sprightliness
and exhaustion
I can see you…
A weeping getting a
grip
Over the throat of
time
Going lengths in
flinging off the obduracy of Yours
You can see me... |
Will visions come
true,
That the sheets of
mine shall fall down
Amongst the wings of
yours?
Will the sand of the
body of yours crack
At night,
And, so, kneels over a
waist
Filled out with
inhalation,
Whereupon the eyes of
mine get burned
With the kohl of
meeting
The inkstand of yours
uprises
And sets half of the
sea to take off
The waves of the other
half upsurge
Like a chimera he
collapses
A dream with the
runaway
Stars of his.
I can see myself
To shut the eyelid of
the rhyme of Yours
The eyes
Of sobbing
Like a child you kiss
the bed sheets of mine,
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