Love Shore

from the reservoir
deep in my heart
the love so profound
looks for an outlet
as the spouts of
enamoured urges
engross in imagination
thrusting all of my desires
to flow down a stream
of intense yearnings
drowning my fervour
only in that direction
which reaches the shore
of your luscious lips
where my aqueous body
would finally settle
to be absorbed by you.


Love Me Deep

Go beyond my skin
and scratch my bones
caress my heart
and fondle my soul

ignite fiery passion
and freeze my fears
quench my desires
and dry my tears

remove my layers
and gaze me through
embrace my scars
and kiss my wounds

taste every bit of me
and devour my savory sweat
cling on to my enamoring body
and fill me with your luscious breath

repeat the unsaid words with me
and sing the unheard silent moans
swing a little in those rhythmic spasms
and glide in curvy mounts and slopes

melt me in your soothing warmth
and let me rest in your every pore
mould me in your distinct shape
and hide me deep inside your core.



I have wandered before
in the dense forest of
deep dark ambiguity
which envelops
the wide space between
a yes and a no

certainly not because
I was a fool to do so
but because
I always thought
perhaps you needed
some more time

and moreover,
when has life
ever promised
to be a platter
full of certainties,
has it ?

but now I realise
I didn’t deserve to be there
not for it was too creepy
to see my insecurities
grow into tall trees
fluttering their leaves
in the winds of melancholy
as I wandered alone
in that dark dense forest

but simply for the reason that
some questions demand
an absolute answer
no matter what
Period !


Calling Out Your Name

I often call out your name
in the moments of extreme solitude
when the only thing I hear
is the sound of my own breath
and the tick tock of the clock
as the seconds merge with the minutes
and the minutes merge with the hours
but they never seem to have
enough of each other
for they keep going round and round
with an unfathomable desire
to unite again and again

I often call out your name
when a thin crescent moon
tries to slip into my room
through the slit of the window pane
to brighten up the ambience
just enough to make it possible
to barely perceive the presence
of objects in the darkness
I so vividly remember,
that’s as much light you prefer
when we make love, right ?

I often call out your name
when all the possibilities
of reaching out to you seem bleak
as distances transform into walls
obstructing all of my senses
which were only meant to feel you
and slowly in dire despair
senses turn impervious to stimuli
making me feel like I am nothing more
but just a clutter of vestigial organs

Yes, I often call out your name
when I am all alone.


Of “Beings” and “Not-beings”

I was
you thought
I would
never be

and you were
of the sort
I wanted you
to be

in my “beings”
you somehow found
what you were
looking for

and in your
“not beings”
I was content
like never before

so while
your “not beings”
filled my voids
with tint of
rainbow hues

my every “being”
was there to cleanse
your life of
all the blues

and thus
despite our “beings”
and “not beings”
we thrived in mystique​ bliss

as we realised
a love so divine
amidst all the impossibilities.


Clandestine Nights

Behind the dark curtains
of clandestine nights
reside stories
of silent pain
endured under
velvety blankets
wrapped in disguise
around cotton bedsheets
with aesthetic prints

and then there are
silky pillows
not in tears
but in the
venomous sap of
crushed dreams
and squeezed desires
retaining moisture
at all times
as the shadows
of dark memories
never tend
to give way
to even a
strayed beam
of hope

and as the night grows
the silence amplifies
the noise of every word
that remained unsaid
and every cry
that remained unheard
and yet another sleep
is thus devoured by the
clamorous quiescence
of a ruthless night
waiting anxiously
for the light of dawn.


Like a Fabric

How much would it take
for you to interpret
what lies behind
my forced smiles
and the guise of
deep watery eyes

can’t you see
I am only trying to be
how you wanted me to be
wrapping my hopes
under the covers of
fake contentment
squeezing myself
to perfectly fit into
the exact frame of
your expectations

and sometimes
I fold myself
like a piece of
silken clothing
to find some space
in your packed closet
hoping that someday
you might pick me up
and take time
to unfold my layers
observing the intricacies
of minute patterns
carefully woven
on a tedious craft

and then perhaps
you just might spot
the missing strands
and little knots of threads
giving jitters to your hands
as you run your fingers
on the plain fabric
feeling the coarseness
mild but sharp enough
to pierce into your skin
giving you a sense of reality.


Inky Night

How I love
to rub the inky night
between my palms
crafting verses
of caged emotions
looking for an outlay
fluttering desperately
their unfurled wings

and how I love
to wake up with
hands stained
of leaky thoughts
smudging the darkness
clinging to the gloom
with both my hands
as the tremors
of tribulations
wreck my body
and push my mind
towards the abyss.


The Gloom

As if the mass of gloom
which we carry inside
wasn’t enough
to leave us agonized
we gulp the darkness
to its every bit
and fill our gut
with acerbic
sap of night

a dejected sleep
snoozes in some corner
as we dream of zilch
with wide open eyes
and this hollowness
full of empty thoughts
only grows galore
with every passing time.


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