ahana-bose

You are a blissful prerogative,
The vague fantasy of your embrace
now growls at me.

I won't let it go.
Now that I am brimming with poetry,
I will merrily give into its' coquetry.

You are a facsimile, 
of the favourite shades of blue that my mind ejects.
You sprinkle intricate longings in my eyes,
and I cannot think straight.

The bitter wind hushes,
I shut my door.
The shredded pieces of our entanglements
lie,bleeding, on the floor.

Shout out to me, swain!
Drench me in all of your disdain.
For every time I pant, you make me gasp,
You would be mine, my words to clasp.