DeepSh*t

How on earth you were on my mind day and night yet into a piece of poem I wasn’t able to transmute your beauty?

How on earth your image was constantly across my sight yet my hands were chained and my mind was incapable of transfiguring what it was able to see?

Maybe your beauty, alone, wasn’t what attracted me. Maybe it was the awe I felt or maybe it was the hidden messages beneath your eyes that triggered me and made me drive unwillingly towards insanity.

Describing the matter – beauty – is considered as an easy task, though does describing the inner realm falls into the same category? Does describing what stunned our mind is as easy as describing what bewitched our eyes and made us pray for company?

Excuse me then if my mind was blocked and my hands upon every trial ended up shaking. Excuse me if words weren't able to come out of my mouth even though my eyes were drunkenly infatuated. Excuse me, our species wasn't designed to express about its heart's deepest links; it was designed to stutter in the presence of such internal beauty.