Slick Route to Love

While glossy moon
begins to slide down
a polished greasy sky
smeared delicately
with creamy hues of
nascent amber dawn
the butter night melts
slowly on our skin
basking in the warmth
of lush fervent embraces
as tender cotton ball kisses
dipped in sweet lavender oil
dabble latent dry desires
to make slick route to love.

~ Chhaya









Gluey Memories

Immersed deep in the darkness
of mucid glutinous nights
imbued with the resin of
viscous gluey memories
I adhere
to fading thoughts of you
like an old peeling affiche
lingering on a crumbling wall
heedless of its ensuing collapse.

~ Chhaya


The Bloom

I am born from your golden skin
radiant like the winter afternoon
wrapped in the fulgent rays of sun
stemming from the roots of your pores
rising like a vine in its full vigour
entwined to your poised brown frame
spanning through your stretches and arcs
I thrive in the credence of your brace
only to bloom with gilded shine
like ourulent mustard flowers
spread over bistre brown plane.

~ Chhaya

Timbered Hopes

Rubbing my hands
on the scabrous blanket
enveloping the frigid night
I kindle timbered hopes
torpid as they stood
like redundant clapboards
waiting to be disposed of
before they are nibbled by the termites
the charred tips of my fingers
oozing salve to becalm
the blistered sores
of lingering desires
the pungent fumes
of combusting yearnings
the only anodyne
to allay my perturbed mind.

~ Chhaya



Silent Verse

I am a silent verse
calling out your name
with the flutter of my lips
and the cadence of my breath
from the hollowness rooted
deep inside my gut
and the wide emptiness
oozing out of my heart
and I raise up a timbre
with gush of lumbering gore
and the throbs emanating
from dark pit on my core
to gently release
in a rumbling sonance
the cricks that reside
in the contour of my frame
and the spasms that linger
in the pith of my bone.

~ Chhaya

The Wait

Sun kissed mornings
steal my nights
those savoured
in your fragrance
leaving me aghast
unfathomed and agap
in deep dark patches
of blazing days
charred into cinders
by the furnace of despair
and a molten me
strives hard
to be viscous enough
to flow with the time
where days turn into nights
so I can find you again
until dawn drifts us away.


Ashy Dreams

My dreams are somber ashes
spread over opaque night
guarded by misty moon
to be preserved till the end of time
they are blown by balmy breeze
flowing slowly as you breathe
my name in a turn of gasp
when loneness gets too stark
and you want to reach to me
but there’s no way it can be
that’s when those ashes fly
hoping that they will somehow find
you dreaming of me too
just like I always do
and then we will sleep in peace
when our dreams will come to meet.


You Make Me Art

Parallel to the amorphous sky
the horizontal frame
of my statuesque body
lies like a piece of
magnificent architecture
holding vertical pillars
of your transcending memories
elevating from the pedestal
of my torpid mind
embellished with the carvings
of verses of love and pain
which have lingered with me
through every fraction of time

and the moonlight beams
pierce through my skin
like armature wires
so as to shape my contours
reminding me of your touch
which would instantly convert
every fragment of me
into a living figurine
of perfectly sculpted art
as I arched in your arms.

– Chhaya

Loom of Desires

I was the warmth
of your golden skin
and you were the source
of my balmy breaths
those were the nights
when I had learned
how to weave dreams
with my cottony hands

your hair my silken yarn
which I could spin
all through the night
and then wind them
around my fingers
like beams wrapped
around warp-piles

with the jacquard loom of desires
taking hues from ombre skies
I thus wove a thousand dreams
in dark nights with open eyes.

– Chhaya

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