A divine touch upon my heart, felt to your ardent ears, pious becomes the soul, to fancy the pulchritude in sight, scarlet beats knock to haste, for in awe I dream of caresses, egos are merrily entwined, and lips yearn for taste, yet bold words still bridled, hinder heart's precious gossip, though no men pry of suspicion, no longer could it be curtailed, for the hiatus was blind, by wits that whispered secrets, and nourished the reader's longing, to reiterate his fondly feelings. - Jomur Islam

This poem is about: 
Our world


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