Infatuation. Poem by Ritika Abrol

Descended, have I in dulcet mists;
Entwined, have I in perilous trysts;
The eye can see but just this far;
And yet, I do not for one moment spar.

Want nothing more and nothing less;
Than to, these delusions consent;
Than to, these untruthful dreams;
Give in, moments, thoughts and breaths.

To live in these vacant reveries;
Musing, longing, coveting, wistfully;
To empty days of tasks and nights;
Of slumber, to fill it all with you.

Until, I slowly raise from my knees;
Desirous sighs, cease quickened beats;
Until, I'm struck with the world again;
Until, the futility I unhurriedly realize;
I'll soak in you, your thoughts, my sweet.
With desirous sighs and quickened beats.