4. JUST LISTENING TO MY BEATS
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably gauge the profound sadness enshrouding my countenance; by just ethereally glimpsing at my shielding eyelashes,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably prognosticate the hunger in my stomach; by just sighting me restlessly gnawing at my bohemian nails,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably sense the maniacal desperation in my trembling visage; by just the infinitesimally changed tone; in the nimble cadence of my voice,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably comprehend the wave of bizarre mortification enveloping my soul; by just the capricious tinge of poignant scarlet; on my impoverished cheeks,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably narrate the experiences of my day; by just feeling the transiently cringed lines; on my diminutively frazzled forehead,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably guess the thunderbolts of tumultuous anger encapsulating my blood; by just witnessing that inconspicuous iota of frantic vacillation in my dwindling stride,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably feel the insatiably nostalgic child in me; by just gently caressing my innocuously vivacious lips,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably soliloquize the first day of my birth; by just kissing my rampantly fluttering and daintily gorgeous eyelashes,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably understand the diabolically obsessive agony in my life; by just sighting the augmented redness in the interiors of my palm; and withering body skin,
She hadn’t give me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably analyze the state of intriguingly inexplicable mind; by just staring for mock seconds; at the ludicrously staggering curvature of my spine,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably construe the vibrant philosopher entrenching my senses from all sides; by just inhaling the scent that drifted; from my profusely wandering countenance,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably conceive the insurmountable reservoir of fantasy circulating in my blood; by just kneading my pulse a minuscule trifle,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably perceive the tumultuous electricity in my compassionate visage; by just the poignant magnetism that radiated on every step that I gently tread,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably apprehend the unfathomable carpet of dreams in my eyes; by just witnessing the resplendently shimmering twinkle that lay; therein,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably assimilate the unrelenting euphoria in each element of my persona; by just tracing the tiny globules of sweat; that ran down my chest,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably discern the ardent believer in my body; by just witnessing the resiliently unflinching contours of my chin,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably grasp the artist fulminating inexorably in my ecstatic veins; by just feeling the astronomical propensity in my fireballs of passionate breath,
She hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably realize my uncontrollably escalating desire; by just cuddling the fantastically zealous moistness; which engulfed every trajectory of my flesh,
And she hadn’t given me birth from her womb; but could still irrefutably define my immortal love for her divinely grace; by just listening to the marvelously impregnable beats of my small; but perpetually craving heart .