She stands out
With those pearly eyes which can make you sink into it.
Those bitten lips looking so artlessly
Her hair flowing to the rhythm of the wind
Her dimple cheeks being shown flawlessly;
When she walks, every eye throws upon her paths
Her voice that can tempt your tangible soul.
Oh! How can you not tumble upon her My dear?
I longed to be the spitting image of her.
Here I am! poles apart.
Envying of her as you laud her
You yearn for her quiddity.
And all that betides in my thoughts thought.
~Paodon
YOU ARE READING
The Afterthoughts
Poetry"The Afterthoughts", is a room where I bottle up my cursory thoughts, hidden from the realm I am existing and presenting it to the world where I yearn to fit (bookish world).
