No Crime I Commit Poem by Ridhvi Sharma

These wild, lumbering thoughts of you, picked from the constellation of my heart, are no crime.
I defer to the falsehood and open the gate for you like a sentinel, for this is no crime.
What if these restless butterflies in me want to flank the flower of you? For I am not doing any crime.
When I leaf through the pages of my album and pause at your crinkled smile, no crime is committed.
Here I come to muster up for this lovely detachment, this isn't a crime.
The pleasure your name holds, for it runs intravenously in me, and now my every organ knows you, no crime is committed.
Those tinged longings I have for you coax me to win on this battlefield, yet no crime exists.
You are my muse,
You are the utterance in the benedictions,
In this hamlet-like flock of people, you are the edifice I marvel at.
So you are not my crime.