In Thee, I Submerge
What flowers doth thou bud on thy lips!
by Abhinav Maurya
A honeyed taste I savour— hid.
What scent doth thy neck wear!
I mesmerise rotating its sphere.
What deepness doth thine eyes sneer!
I get lost in its oblivion rear.
What silk doth thy hairs prep!
In its caress my face zigzags.
What perfection doth thy breasts raise!
Even divinity would become mortal in its trace.
What softness doth thy hands place!
A touch of it makes me numb for days.
What curves art there on thy hips!
May geometry get some tips.
What grace doth thine aura possess!
To be there with thee is all that I crave.