By Kuhu Nagpal

The arches her eyebrows made

Made me slide down my senses

All I could think of was her 

Her lips, her moods and her cute nuances.

Her curves are what my hands are made for

Her face is what my lips embrace 

Her hair is what my nose will die without 

If you think I'm mad, we'll it's her craze.

Her hands aren't hands; they're pillows of comfort

Her fingers are petals of rose

Her nails are pretty, playful things 

Her eyes; a threat to me they pose.

But what is that 1mm of gap we share

What kind of a field is it

Her and me, me and her

What kind of a deal is it?

All I want to do is talk with her.

All day long, all night a song.

All for her, her charming existence;

And how she always appears to be strong.

She is what she is 

But she hasn't let me be

She flipped me over, has made me crazy

I've changed for her and she doesn't see.

Her waist is magic; her neck is tragic

A place where one goes and never comes back again

Her voice is that of a little girl's

Being a daddy makes me want to take all the pain.

Her soul, just isn't another soul

That she is special would just be an understatement.

She is more. Eternal and infinite.

And she makes me feel the same.

Don't change; please always stay the same

And take me to be yours, this gentleman 

Begs; you are his one and only one.

You are and always be his sun.

1 comment

  • It would be an understatement to say that I can feel your poetry. In my guts! Wow


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