Curse Self Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

He had wonderful body
That shall attract anybody
He had one specialty in particular
His love was perfectly in order

I have thought over many times
Why was I always in flames?
Why was he always in mind and trying to consume?
“He was in love” I assumed

I gave in willingly
Whenever he approached smilingly
I shall fall for him happily
And surrender readily

I found him perfect match
So I tried to reach
And get on well with his approach
It was me always as such

I find no abnormality
But find quality
To enjoy each moment
And curse self when he is not present