(A/n :- this one is not the usual fluff but rather a little suggestive and mentions of sexual pleasures)
The heat waves hits up again
While i stain my Canvas
With thoughts delineating you
Painting the feeling of high
We felt when I was coaxed around you
Wash silver linings, attaching
The agape of our lips.
Fingers interwined parallel
To our figures.
I pigment complete void
Over the board with
Some of the white paint spraying,
Spraying to portray infinite stars
We saw riding our high for
The first time in an eternity.
Difficult it is to paint
The entire mystery of palpitation
Of hearts and pulse and the glory below.
To have an orgasm gushing over
Is same as experiencing utopia itself
Is same as discovering oasis in
The drop dead humidity of the dessert.
As i reach the absolute of my depiction
I name it off our "the little death"
On the side of my canvas board with
My trembled impression!!
YOU ARE READING
Elysian
Poetry~It isn't always what it seems to be.... (Short poems for when i feel like a poet)
