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Breathing words and bleeding letters I can die for the brushstrokes of love It is indeed my religion Overstaying on emotions is my habit But I overcome to my own surprise People who take advantage of me Fine-tuning and adapting to demeanour Which oozes blasphemy and...

The distance drains me I need to be close to you Nothing more I yearn for Other than to grow old with you Your purest touch The caress of your hands The warmth of your cuddle Makes me wander to distant lands The paradise of ardour I turn into a weakling, staring into...

Our crowded, lawless view of life Is riotous, travail, and strife Wag, my daily chore Being bee, galore So much more Like a wife.