The Twain

Beautification of the inner self,

Is controlled not within the boundaries.

Fortune plays an anonymous role,

And glitter substitutes all prophecies.

Befitting negotiations are no more sober,

Eyes portray the thoughts of a pulsating heart.

Sleepless nights are not wearisome,

Distance seems to call off nonrhythmic throb.

Iris connected intensely, lost in the world,

Touch of the hand reduces all ache and suffers.

Protection arises when tight is the hold,

Warmth of word nurtures the soul.

Together they rise to the sun so pristine,

Quest for reality stops when rays touch the skin.

Fascination becomes an enchanted spell,

Counting stars seem amusing under the moonlight bay.

Face behind the candlelight seems appealing,

Closed eyes picture the angel with clarity.

Arguments for them are apprentice,

Break-ups are casual and mending is gifting.

Parting ways separate them sometimes,

Concealing facts grow deeper inside.

But then strikes the pain of losing,

Craving brings them closer, the lovers so keen.