I'M His Poem

Red of cherry that I wear on my lips- how on his chest, they sketch similes I read them, find metaphors hidden and realize it’s a poem.. a heart grows inside me then- I myself turn into yet another poem. last night, he wrote poem on me- all over me and I attempted to do the same I doubt if I failed? Since, I had him as my guru… Wet souls were searching their thirst- faint light of moon, I saw it glow right next to my pillow It was raining outside, meanwhile I was raining too.. raining for I’d never rained before- clouds did form sometimes, but I tell you, I’d never rained before, raining- is not easy, you need a whole water cycle to complete no cycle would get complete just like that you would need both the pushing and pulling factors-the duality I mean, as defined by every philosophy a coin needs to have two sides my side had never found the other half of walnut, with him, it was more than just a walnut, it was almond nut, it was nuts and nuts and nuts, nudes!!…oops…i mean all kinds of nuts I just don’t know how and why I rained? may be he was just too warm, unlike those who were very cold, may be I gained the perfect temperature, created some thunder and made storm running in my nerves and energy that those lightning created, or energy that created lighting? was powerful - this power corrupted me - I was so corrupted that I stole half of him- but, that was a genuine barter though, I gave him half of mine too, cause, Gandalf he was, magical - he waited no call… inside my little home, he maintained courtesy reaching my hall and corridors, he knew exactly where to take-off the shoes my chura-pauju orchestrated perfectly- when he inhaled me and again filled me with aroma he exhaled I’m his poem now, he holds patent and copy-right on me- he’s earned me. these legal terms, are too materialistic I know, So I don’t care about them much and I don’t have to I know I actually am a secret project of him, nobody see me hanging on lead of his pencil and lines of his notebook I am his poem..