Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet


Without your voluptuously ravishing eyelashes; the majestic unison in which they vivaciously fluttered towards my impoverished countenance, 


Without your profoundly charismatic lips; the astounding replenishment that they bequeathed upon me; with their marvelous festoon of philanthropic smiles, 


Without your daintily delectable feet; the mesmerizing motivation and patriotism they imparted; as I tread on every acrimoniously withering step, 


Without your gregariously tantalizing belly; the insurmountable fireball of titillation it generated to each of my devastatingly beleaguered senses, 


Every morning of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the Sun; but sadly without its golden ocean of flamboyantly fiery rays.


 


Without your boisterously bustling stride; the dazzling waves of exuberance which it instilled in my pathetically dwindling demeanor, 


Without your incredulously enamoring voice; the unfathomable cistern of enchanting melody that it enshrouded every aspect of my shriveled existence with, 


Without your Omnisciently twinkling eyes; the fathomless galleries of benign inspiration that they impregnated in my hopelessly trembling skin, 


Without your royally poignant cheeks; the unsurpassable cloudburst of heavenly mischief which they uninhibitedly sprinkled upon my cannibalistically penurious visage, 


Every afternoon of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the blazingly sweltering heat; but sadly without the most infinitesimal trace of congenial compassion.


 


Without your impeccably blissful caress; the impregnable ardor to survive that it marvelously inculcated in every ingredient of my waveringly crimson blood, 


Without your ravishingly ravenous hair; the silken entrenchment of euphoric paradise that they transited me wholesomely into; every time you swished them towards the sky, 


Without your intrepidly unflinching voice; the endless island of tumultuous enthrallment that it bestowed upon my nervously frazzled footsteps, 


Without your fantastically fragrant palms; the vividly versatile entrenchment of enigmatic destiny lines embedded within; which dexterously maneuvered every


route of my morbid existence, 


Every evening of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the handsomely pink light; but sadly without the tiniest trace of spell binding enthusiasm.


 


Without your articulately divine fingers; the unendingly aristocratic river of sheer artistry; which they showered upon my manipulatively murderous countenance, 


Without your insatiably piquant tongue; the candid blend of fantasy and reality that it beautifully disseminated; upon my viciously imploding and malicious form, 


Without your unassailably priceless breath; the unprecedented tenacity that it blessed upon my insipidly extinguishing body; to exist for a countless more lifetimes, 


Without your immortally inimitable love; the indefatigably throbbing humanitarian beats of your chest; which unconquerably bonded with my brutally collapsing heart, 


Every night of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the resplendently charming Moon; but sadly without the most inconspicuous trace of celestially milky white.



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Every Night Of Mine

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