And when the Reader reads

 

Seems like

she is sitting before the senses

But

it wasn't the one whom I knew in fancies

 

It was a scrambled soul

speaking through eyes,

But her visage was horrible

having millions of lies

 

She

then moved her soft petals

and raised sensation,

Creepy and cursed clinches

the unseen infection

 

It was heart-wrenching affection

And helpless intention,

Sweet desire to role

the broken inventions

 

Locked the heavy breaths

She,

then Overfelt the hollowness

and her knees wrenched like death

 

When I looked into her eyes

Her lips try to hide the whacks

But,

The depth, the fear of pain invites

 

Vulnerable I am, sit on the other side

With a stitched tide,

Fainted I feel, I divide

And senselessly Quite

 

The butter paper before the cake

and the soulful mutters she makes

Then,

After the dazzling days of retakes

 

Under the blanket of shackles,

envelope the invisible quackles

And,

When she wondrously tackles

 

How beautifully

she endeavored to disguise

But,

The reader rides and revises.