Feeling the voluptuousness of the 3am seaside harmonious air, I pen down this, aroused from a brief night rest.
Quasi-her word its all Good.
Everything appears smooth, healthy, fun and apparently romantic in the heavenly format,
the loving, the caring,
the oneness, the rosy nature,
The caresses, the pleasure,
The longing, the soothing And every heavenly romantic embodiment one can ever imagine. But given birth to the statement.
The moth is to the lava, what the Gamin is to the ****, just as the lava gave birth to the moth, this heavenly embodiment begins the birth of things of terrifying nature, there horse riders accompanied each other faces covered like Taliban's in execution

You are my poetry..

Care for you..
Care for you, is underrated.
Cause in reality no one is going to care for you more than you.

What's the biggest lie ever told she asked:
Awaiting some general answers she waited..
With gleaming eyes he mutter say something why the halt she inquired impatient.
After a long halt the words finally metamorphosis into a single statement.
Everything is going to be alright.

Oh, so truthful  and genuine the world would have been if everyone had the ability to hearing their own words..

Sometimes, we look without seeing, no we see but the conscious is submerged....