Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.

This world shoots you down for no reason;
try to make peace- there’s no treaty
Divide our kinds, but still claim we’re all equal;
give us numbers, to define the body count of our people
For war is the longest film to mankind; but it feels much
longer when it comes with a sequel.

               We’re just trying to survive
               hoping tomorrow we’ll still wake up alive.

And you squeeze my heart like a trigger;
a gun for a mouth; every word is a bullet piercing
at me with your deadly, and gripping love
You appear as a wonderful monster; roaming
in the dark; an unforeseeable future, focused
on a never-ending hope, that you and I shall last.

Our words become ash, skin will turn into dust, bones
become rust- my rib will one day disappear; the one that
belonged to your side. And by my side; you were my
much-loved poem, keeping me company, as all my old
lovers are above me.

Your very smile is an island that I’m stranded on,
your bright skin is the sun; our love a message in a
bottle, filled with …our words, kisses, voices, messages,
poems, verses and secrets untold.

And for one last warmth of your lips,
I’ll feed into them like a flame, and being burned
by your love. Goodbye, goodbye to us, and goodbye
to our love.

A claim you possess;
we’re possessions, battling for one last touch- our
love on the battlefield; the gore of it, engulfs you as
if you were drowning; sinking deeper into your
emotions. Our hearts relapsed into their silence, a
fathomless ocean- of us holding our breathes each
time we kiss.

We were so tired of loving with no results,
so much so, that the very first time we kissed
it all, it was all too much to comprehend.

Tasting your lips; is so close to sipping on wine, I tasted your
maturity, the finest savoring of your very worth- after every
kiss, I’m left so lost for words.

Lost in the loud colour of your lips; a crimson night- where I had
very well kissed a dream. You were sleeping below my chin, resting
on my chest, and I slowly kissed your forehead to lift your eyes open.

You thanked me, for being someone who loved you as the person you
are; and not what you had been before. Your sanguine lips whispered
the loudest secret; with a vestige of your spell. I read the tales of your
lips-an odour of your past, spoken in their shaking trace; a mute tear
on your cheek; searching for someone to rescue you in these long nights.

Waiting for a knight- we met each other while lost in a night. The guise
of people’s eyes, could never shape you out so perfectly; as perfect as
each one of your curves. From greeting so many people with our lips;
you could taste a thousand of them, but only have a fondness for one.

                                                       Your lips, are my perfect sonnet.

I sat there waiting for myself;
patiently, so anxiously- my thoughts between beauty,
love, ambiguity; a tragedy and all manners of happenings.
While we were both picturing the inkling of make-up
***- but we lacked the foundation of making love.

Holding onto the fear of more arguments
afterwards, so tightly like a hug. I was choked
out for most of my words, fitting over the hand
of fabrications, like a perfectly fitting glove.

It all became a tacit question
between the both of us: “this time, will we make
an effort at making love, or is it another downwards
spiral of us just being so down to ****?”

We were both smoking long blunts;
-having a much longer conversation
and she confessed a truth about self:

[Her hands had grown a fatigued touch,
too tired to touch the rest of itself
Her body a trade of secrets; constantly learning
all of the best places, to please herself.

And lastly, our eyes, both held history of
**** pictures- seeing each other with our naked
eyes; and of course, the many glares of knowing
how to please ourselves.

      Two lovers, who truly loved themselves.