Every Night Of Mine Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Without your voluptuously ravishing eyelashes; the majestic unison in which they vivaciously fluttered towards my impoverished countenance,
Without your profoundly charismatic lips; the astounding replenishment that they bequeathed upon me; with their marvelous festoon of philanthropic smiles,
Without your daintily delectable feet; the mesmerizing motivation and patriotism they imparted; as I tread on every acrimoniously withering step,
Without your gregariously tantalizing belly; the insurmountable fireball of titillation it generated to each of my devastatingly beleaguered senses,
Every morning of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the Sun; but sadly without its golden ocean of flamboyantly fiery rays.

Without your boisterously bustling stride; the dazzling waves of exuberance which it instilled in my pathetically dwindling demeanor,
Without your incredulously enamoring voice; the unfathomable cistern of enchanting melody that it enshrouded every aspect of my shriveled existence with,
Without your Omnisciently twinkling eyes; the fathomless galleries of benign inspiration that they impregnated in my hopelessly trembling skin,
Without your royally poignant cheeks; the unsurpassable cloudburst of heavenly mischief which they uninhibitedly sprinkled upon my cannibalistically penurious visage,
Every afternoon of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the blazingly sweltering heat; but sadly without the most infinitesimal trace of congenial compassion.

Without your impeccably blissful caress; the impregnable ardor to survive that it marvelously inculcated in every ingredient of my waveringly crimson blood,
Without your ravishingly ravenous hair; the silken entrenchment of euphoric paradise that they transited me wholesomely into; every time you swished them towards the sky,
Without your intrepidly unflinching voice; the endless island of tumultuous enthrallment that it bestowed upon my nervously frazzled footsteps,
Without your fantastically fragrant palms; the vividly versatile entrenchment of enigmatic destiny lines embedded within; which dexterously maneuvered every
route of my morbid existence,
Every evening of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the handsomely pink light; but sadly without the tiniest trace of spell binding enthusiasm.

Without your articulately divine fingers; the unendingly aristocratic river of sheer artistry; which they showered upon my manipulatively murderous countenance,
Without your insatiably piquant tongue; the candid blend of fantasy and reality that it beautifully disseminated; upon my viciously imploding and malicious form,
Without your unassailably priceless breath; the unprecedented tenacity that it blessed upon my insipidly extinguishing body; to exist for a countless more lifetimes,
Without your immortally inimitable love; the indefatigably throbbing humanitarian beats of your chest; which unconquerably bonded with my brutally collapsing heart,
Every night of mine was no doubt and irrefutably like the resplendently charming Moon; but sadly without the most inconspicuous trace of celestially milky white.