Krunal Pandya


Upon the table of extreme exaggeration, Mashanka stands tall
Shivering, biting the pink lips of her own
Perhaps the circus of her tender age or a focus of her unique mind
She senses love beyond the strengths of lovers of any best kind

High like tides her feelings rise and then suddenly
Fall over her heart like a butcher’s knife
His love for her was constant and monotonous like plain sunshine
Her hopes for him were myriad like a rainbow in the sky

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