I'll gladly oblige the request you have
As I run my hands through your hair and drive you mad.

Look into my eyes, you see me smile, I'll take my time, we may be here for a while.

Gentle I'll be or as hard as you like
The feel of your skin, it gives me life.

The warmth of your body, my breathe in your ear
Do not fret, you have nothing to fear.

I am but a fleeting phrase, a sentence in your tome,
A whisper in your journey, where countless voices roam.
Yet, in my quiet brevity, a universe took flight,
Filling shelves of boundless thought in the corridors of night.

The libraries you have built within my fragile heart,
Each word, a gilded memory, a masterpiece of art.
I penned your name in starlight, on pages bound with dreams,
Ink flowing like a river through love's eternal streams.

Your smile, the prelude to a sonnet soft and true,
Your laughter, the refrain that the poets always knew.
I've scrawled you in the margins of the world I hold inside,
Where metaphors of longing in endless echoes bide.

Each fleeting glance, a chapter; each touch, a verse divine,
Your presence is the epilogue where I would rest my spine.
Though I am but a sentence, your spirit swells my page,
A symphony of essence no volumes could encage.

My quiet voice may falter as your story carries on,
Yet echoes of my cadence remain long after the dawn.
For though the ink may dwindle, and time may turn to dust,
The libraries I have crafted will never know distrust.

I am merely passing through, a footnote to your tale,
Yet your light ignites my parchment, a flame that will not pale.
So leave me in your chapter, or let my lines erase,
For still, you are the atlas of my soul's most sacred space.

It burns, it gnaws, it tears away
This passion that, in my heart
Has made its unwanted stay
There are those who say that
To be free of it, there is a way

This way is not the one I chose
And now I mourn my lost repose
Foolishly I fanned the flame
What before had been an ember
Has now become a blaze

This blaze, it grows and grows
For my indulgence is its bellows
And the only way to **** this fire
To turn ashen what still glows
Is to extinguish my desire

This desire, oh this blazing fire
How I wish I could outrun it
But it never seems to tire
Onerous shackle that it is
Pulling me to the abyss

In this restaurant I sit
Named sibling in my native
Feigns a what if across my mind
As I see something I wish was mine

Across the room I see someone renowned,
Strict and scary they say yet profound,
For his works are truly legendary
Where each lessons are worth his legacy

I stay here still with my aching head,
Wishing I was one of his sons instead
A parent whom you share the same passion
Isn't that more worth than ten million?

Everybody asks me what I want to do
"I'll have it figured out when time blooms"
But I know hidden deeply in the ocean of truth
Yelps a buried passion yearning to be pursued

Maybe I have the brains to do what they say
Maybe I have what it takes like a predator approaching its prey
I myself thought that this was the way
Yet why does my heart beg to not put her away?

I used to
watch short films,
and dream of creating gorgeous
scenes that made people feel
deeper than they’ve ever,
like when I’d medal in a solo
after weeks of crying over sheet music,
but then I felt deeper than I’d ever,
and my brush has since ran dry.
My past passions would likely
return to me with less effort than
it initially took to acquire them,
but I’m unsure if that’s what is
best or I should pivot
into something else.

Hamare khayalon mein din raat rehna,  yeh rok-e-pyar nahi to phir aur kya hai.

In our thoughts, you reside day and night, if this isn't proof of love, then what else is?

Jahan bhi To dekha, nazar-e-To hai, yehi giraftaari nahi to phir aur kya hai.

Whatever direction I look, my eyes meet the radiance of your being, if this isn't the ******* of love and devotion, what other surrender could there be?