Belle ame ma Dear December!
You know what! My therapist is a maniac
portraying ,love is a faulty weapon.
I must confess,it was against my will
Nary a confession of a broken heart,
as love is my purpose
never lulled by lovely lies,
Am I kin to sorrows? Ofcourse not
Then why me? Projecting me as a subject to the humdrums.
I'm glad, I'm here,
never wore a veil of melancholy,
beneath the cold moon,every night kneeled to hug me,
highlights of happiness
muffled up in coat of summer dreams
curating the scented memories.
My love fermented and cushioned inside the freshly baked gingerbread house.
Undisturbed ecru rimmed sky
customising the footprints in the snow,
unadulterated warmth of you,my beau
pride damsel of him,my karma,
Meet Mr.Karma my boyfriend.
Marinated in the meteor shower of oozing desire
my love stained December,you,
beyond the prism's intensity.
The sassy mulishness painted by love,
filling the cornucopia bowl,
warm brews of ethereal ambrosia
fed me elysium
murmuring on being poet's muse,
oh bid me sleep like a fearless vine,
dominating sheer and the kiss of
bookmarked metaphoric aurora.
Saturated hesitancy over the realm of ecstasy,
I found a muse within me.
Yours
dame d'amour
© njram6


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