Once touch yourself with closed eyes.
Sense thy nakedness with the touch.
Release your hair from bands and clips.
And feel them on your skin.
Fondle your face with bare hands,
You will love those bushes over thy eyes.
Those spots and eruption will be tantalizing.
Go further and remove those clutches.
Whatever you were hiding, let them give joy to your senses.
Electrifying goose bumps,
Tender skin, loose and rough edges.
Every touch will bring you close to you.
Little or large do not matter,
Shed the shame and believe in you.
When you capture me in the portrait.
I wish you will raise your brush to draw my whiskers.
And with the same brush , give a final touch to my errant eyebrows .
Take the brush down, this time with more black on it.
In your poem, when you describe sensual.
Tell them that touch of lips is not the only divine thing.
My unruly hair, my uneven eye, that big toe have sanctity too.
Don't these stretch marks give you hope of our growth,
Like every cloud's silver lining.
My skin like flame has different shades,
A mark, a cut, a burn and a tan here and there.
But the warmth of my love and care is as fierce.
Tell the world, this irregularity and uniqueness make you admire me differently.
©vaishalikh
V