Alliteration is the letter. Rhyme is the sound. Rhythm makes it - TopicsExpress



          

Alliteration is the letter. Rhyme is the sound. Rhythm makes it better. But love is the word. In my mind I form these words. On paper I concatenate them. Starting from where my pen lands. All the way to bringing your personality to fame. You talk in riddles to confuse me. And I decode them as proverbs like a fool. Thus letting my emotions diffuse from my brain to my heart. You turn to me and use me as a tool. Then mercilessly burn me out like a wart. The ingenious ways of your actions. Complement the active path to my solving the problem. Your pout heightens my attraction. And hence on you I purposely lay the blame. I don’t believe in stars but she says am a Gemini. She says she loves both twin sides of my personality. She sees that my character is much more than meets the eye. I like her more because of her honesty. And she lovingly tells me that my best friend is daft. This is just a way of her declaring the possibility. Like the day she said my couch’s leather was so soft. The mere mention of her name increases my visibility. To the fact that there is a probability. Of a day that I will have the opportunity. To greatly reduce the length of that distance. And have her in my arms for an instance. Religiously puzzling and emotionally mind boggling. Redemption better come soon. Because insanity beckons while riding this feeling. Her dimpled smile; like Jupiter and Venus shining next to the moon. Her laughter is enough to have me in stunned perplexity. Recursive thoughts being the major culprit. My reactions work negatively on my dignity. As my eyes work their way up her skirt- slit. Only to be instantly drawn to her eyes. Exuding elementary love coupled with mastered passion. Body, heart and mind rebel sensing lies. But the imminent treachery proves not to be her fashion. She augments to my life like oxidation by chlorine. She breaks the bonds only to come up with stronger ones. Molecularly attached as we emerge from the smoke-screen. The tango of life together we start to dance. I don’t want to miss any of your rose- kisses. Or the tingling feeling on my skin as my ears heat up. When like a jig-saw you place together all my pieces. And softly rest my head on your lap. Let’s not call it love because we are beyond the norm. Only we know what we share and the serenity it brings. Its more than affection and attraction expressed in any form. The pain of deliberated fission and how madly it stings. The loss of you through an unwise mistake. No justification can be made because it only makes my eyes wetter. The imagination already leaves a somber thought in my wake. You wouldn’t have to hate me because nobody’s gonna hate me better.
Posted on: Mon, 19 Aug 2013 06:37:47 +0000

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