The way I look at you,and                    
The way you don't look at me.            
intrigues me to the extent of insanity,
I love the way you try to evade me,    
bearing the smile at the verge of your lips,with the eyes darting hastily,and throwing the glances at interims of your breath,                                                        
trying to not to look at me desperately,
bearing the contradictions in your mind,
You do have a hunch,I guess,
Perhaps it is not to see me
but to perceive that I see you
It baffles me bluntly over the way
You manage to juggle with the other thoughts when I see you,where as in me,
the only thought that impulses is yours, May I dote on you in this echoless aura...........

She is the raconteur.
Her presence is boisterous,
Words lack to depict her beauty,
Or does it relish the redundancy.
She is the replica of rapture.
The eternity that is encapsulated in her eyes.
Her benevolence is bolstering,
Her gestures are sporadically jesting,
Her looks are lavish,
Her voice is tranquilizing,
Her touch is tingling,
Her walks are wallowing,
when she strolls in the street,
entangled eyes ogle at her.
(her dimpled face,her cramped dress)
................................
.........................­.......
This persuasion is to her as
She leans herself in his arms,
With her neck unbend on his shoulder,
and strand of hair leaping on his lips,
as she then aligns herself  poking him passionately,
admist gazes with her enlarged engulfing eyes,
by which he is transfixed and couldn't answer her no more
when she questions him "How do I look",
With the wry suggestive smile on her visage....

Ever starts
Never ends
Some feelings don't fall apart,
Synecdoche,love.

Into the nothingness;
Unto the non-existence;
(which doesn't contradict with existence)
Detach from the self-centric universe,
ubiquitous nothingness.

Never you could me,
Nor could mine be you,
Yet we are endowed with insanity,
The innate insanity that secretes love.....

Shallow my hear
excurse my heart

Wind is withering,
mind is masquerading,
heads are nudging,
hands are roving,
fingers are clasping,
lips are clenching,
breathe is meddling,
smile is smothering,
looks are prodding,
eyes are staring,
tears are tinging,
(ascent of eyelashes,
descent of eyebrows)
bodies are blending,
skin is sweating,
nimble is my mind,
yet the thought is yours,

Shallow my hear
excurse my heart..... .

The wandering wind bangs your hair,
then the glossy hair sways into your visage.
you wipe it back but then
it still retrieves its vicinity,
you blew the breath from your nether lip
such that the lower jaw leading
and the obsessive arena exists,
the undulating hair gets back into the realm,
sensing the resonance of the breath.
Bumped into the wind anew it salvages,
the more you adjust it,
the more it ensues.
what is that?Is that the repercussions of love?
Is the hair smitten with you or
Is it the enamour of the wind or Is it both?
the latent expression of love from the nature,
so does my love....
let me the wandering wind that is winding into your hair...