Such pretentious pretense presumes a plethora of personal pejoratives,
please pay the predicament proper attention previous to persevering with proposed promises of placation.

I close my sleepless eyes
Hearing your soothing voice,
There is something deep in it
More than any composure
and more than any rejoice.
I feel as centuries passed
after our first meeting,
Which life am I living in?
Second or even further?
Which do I begin anew?
I am like the graveyard
of nascent identities,
None of them could have survived
till the day I fell in you.
The world becomes very small
When you learn to fly high
Winds carry jubilances
and begin to work for you
even when you do not try.
Though I feel suicidal,
fighting with knotty senses,
I don't want to leave you as,
it dears to live even
for nice coincidences.
You can find me childish
When I try to hold on
and look for security,
A poet is always a child
even in maturity.

On this anopisthographic format,
Seems contradistinguishable
To my previous puerile verses,
Disharmonising against contrivances
To be intelligibly indicated,
Through dimunitive confabulations,
As habitually optated by
My personal preferations.