Blinding Reality Poem by Asavri Dhillon

Let them grow,
Let them speak.
The tongues were meant to act like thorns,
and flowers to some.
But don't rip apart the flesh,
Of the soft heart.

Caress her curves,
but don't use them,
To rest your needs,
on the smoothness, they serve;
Thinking it'll slip off.

Caress his neck,
With kisses, rather sweet.
Not to fool him,
But to plant the memory,
In his soul,
Of the purity of your love.

Don't torture her,
With the mazes, your mind has built.
She should be the rose,
Planted in the center of your maze.
And not the one to solve it.

If you want to give yourself to him,
Don't let him taste your body,
At the sake of love.
Let him give his mind and soul to you,
Then give yourself to him.
Not before the love,
falls off -
the only branch,
that it can swing on.