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Anatomy is a trap,
beauty is the light within the eyes.
An unconditional flame unlike the sun,
which goes by dusk,
but it lingers in the darkest shadows like the
moon.
The same light that celebrates the colors of the
world,
and acknowledges her beauty when you gaze
into her eyes.
Appreciating every shade, the light consumes you.
Sail out and lose yourself.
Lock eyes with hers and let the love consume you.
Pretty and extending like the night sky.
Filled with mystery and possibilities.
Decorated with scattered burning gems.
Craving to be a part of your Utopia, but
I'm terrified of the void and the freezing heights.
I look up at times, when alone and happy.
Creating masterpieces by linking the stars together,
and I smile to the peaceful and welcoming night.
The cell buzzed on a beautiful day.
A text from a girl, so many miles away.
I fell in love with a picture and craved for its touch.
Staring into her eyes, consumed is my heart.
Plump, pink lips revealing a white healthy smile.
Petite, exotic nose picking my scent from miles away.
The mind exhaust itself with infite thoughts.
Buttoned in my shirt, her pulse throbs violently against my skin.
The shadow creeps on the object, the blonde haunts the indifferent.
Very far away but very close to my heart,
the distance between two strangers.
Shamar is her name,
lies alone in bed at night,
with a paining leg.
I sweet talk her to sleep,
addicted to Shamar like a drug,
but she is a drug no man can afford.
There is me, cold enough to be left alone.
Shamar is her name,
An angel beneath cold sheets,
She is the south. I am the north.
We explode and laugh it off,
Shamar is her name.
Altagorgeous, appealing and delicious.
A full course meal.
Sophisticated and self-conscious.
Meandering and well cut toned  body.
Armoured fearless sun kissed rhinoceros.
She ain't flawless, but surely she is gorgeous.
They changed and the world changed with them.
Improving everything to their needs and immediate gratification.
A world and a selfish specie, till death do us part.
The bride rearranges everything and fuses over anything.
The walls crack to the pressure and wash up the mold.
Life sprouts from the ashes, in the limelight of the day and night stars.
Eyes fixed on the sun, fail to ignore the silhouette.
The climate changes, nature can't keep up.
A globe of complex colours, the chameleons make it work.
Defined identities unchanging like epitaphs in the graveyard.
Life goes on, as dead clocks take a hand break.

— The End —