I shall paint, your Portrait Tonight. As U unwrap, your Fashion. To picture, your Beautiful Soul. With all it's Freedom and Passion. Lips I shall paint, in Rosy Pink and Eyes, in Lightish Blue. Coz when U smile at Me...Darling. I'm lost in the Universe, with U. I shall sharpen, all your Curves. Hope My Eyes, don't go Blind. Coz seeing your Beauty, My Love. Even a Saint, will lose His Mind. Soon My Masterpiece, will be ready. So Don't fall off to Sleep. We can Romance all Night.....Honey. The Memories, We both can Keep.
Curves under your dress Girl you really impress Nights of drinking Different kinds of smokes in the air Constantly,cigarrette in between those beautiful fingers on your left hand But still,kind as a saint You share even the smallest in your possession The way you are ever ready to hear out others and help them with their challenges, Makes you even more likable Shiny Bright eyes,fresh as a new day You are such a perfect mess Arousing attitude that makes you such a perfect catch That smile with teeth so white like they are bleached daily Your laugh so heartwarming like a well-made cup of coffee on a cold morning Curves under your dress swerve, Left and right when you move You are indeed such a beauty to behold I love how you are ever so bold Even when you are really old, I guarantee that you'll still shine like purified gold You are such a perfect mess, I can never ever forget our first ever kiss.
Copyright Reserved By Emanzi Ian 2020 1 July
Written On 1st July 2020 and edited the next day. Inspired by the words 'Curves under your Dress' from a Kanye West Song.
The Sun was slowly Sinking. The Day was almost Done. When Darkness fell around Us, We readied Ourselves for Fun. I felt Her, with My Eyes. To Memorise Her Golden Spot. She Kissed Me on My Lips and watched Me turning Hot. With Her Ten gentle Fingers, She guided Me to Her Door, The Lion in Me got Woken and We both landed on the Floor. Hearing Her Moan and Whisper, I went fondling Her Curves. Each stroke that I rendered, we're Tennis Aces one Serves.
When they look at my body, they giggle between their teeth that are crooked but they call them curved. They perceive how curveless I look and tell me to perform yoga so that my curves can be defined, so that I can shape my convexes and concaves. I smile as bright as I can because probably those are my only visible curves. I tell them how every time I sit to write my pen curves on the pages that are thumbed on the corners so they seem curved too. I begin by writing the first letter of the English language and make slopes and valleys of this alphabet. I form serpentines and swirling cyclones of my words, I curve my 'S' to form into an infinity so that I can hold on to him for as long. I stretch my 'K' until the end of the earth and make it look like a single leg shoulder stand. And as I take all my alphabets, I turn them from staff position to the plough position. I make my words turn into Paschimotasna, and my noun tries to perform Kundali. My pronouns sit in vajrasana. My similies stress themselves and flex, while my metaphors curl into themselves and hide as Marichyasana. When I am done, my poems form themselves into Pindasana. However, I remain coverless, as straight and sharp as the pen I use. I remain 'Arjuna's' bow so he directs me into my own self, my own heritage and I end up killing my Bhishma, my self-respect. Hence while my words perform yogasana, I stand still in tadasana.
DO-liciously said i fell in Love be()()Tween your most'ist gloriously grand trait Oars swiftly guided my strong and long co AWK went the swallow chasing her boyfriend and babies are beautiful in Spring.