To write your name in my blood,
To bleed such a wonder
Would be an absolute honour.
To have you, entire,
I give you my soul.

we were swathed in each other's ambience.
the bed, molded from our warm bodies.
outside, the snow fell
and fell
and fell,
ensnaring us further into our arms.
when hungry, we munched on chips, candy,
licking salty fingers and moving onto the main course
(my neck, your stomach)
we watched Blade Runner and sipped ***** drinks at noon,
we got drunk, off of the not so ****** orange juice,
and each other.
(we had the excuse, nowhere to go)
naked, and inebriated, we swayed
and boomed with the storm.
we giggled at nothing, discussed about everything.
we kissed until our lips chapped.
as the snow descended, and our minds drifted
to sleep, i wished to spend every snow day
enfolded
in
you.

Perfect hands, she has             
     like no other,
love is the sheen,
       her mobile fingers exude,
                               in her hands
                                          I am malleable and ductile,
                                  she crafts me
                                              as a piece of Hellenic art.

It's a pity, its a pity
though we hate anything thorny,
 and silently meditate on serendipity,
  the cactus, we planted inadvertently,
 among chrysanthemums and roses
                                            we swear by,
grew real quickly, proliferated avidly.
Look at their ghastly smiles, prickly.

You find them raise and shine early,
on any weather, rain, drought or snow,
when the gentle flowers all are withered ,
and sleepy, they remain succulent and sturdy.

It's a pity, fragrant flowers loose heart easily,
but  cactus, without fail, remain  alert and cocky,
It's a pity, nice ones can't fight back and smile,
look, the cactus flowers ask for nothing special,
though spiky, they make us believe we are lucky.
*Aren't we thankful, for their tender mercies?

i want to show you my scars. all of them.
and tell you the story.
i have many, i know. and probably 50 more will be added.
the ones blossoming on my shins & knees,
that's what happens when you're active in summer.
the one under my bottom lip,
i was young and my slumber met a sharp ended edge.
the ones on my hands,
let's just say the oven isn't my good friend.
and the other scars...
those are the scary stories.
those are the ones i lock away.
the ones on my stomach, my wrist, my arms.
those scars hold no stories, only nightmares.
those scars were no accidents, only battles.
i lie, most of the time, when questioned.
but you are not judgmental.
these scars, i know you could never fully understand.
but if i share my story,
if i tell you the secret beneath the scare tissue,
can you at least try?

Soft white light,
gently makes love
          to your supine naked body,
                               *you sleep oblivious.

My poor, stupid poodle,
peed on the pedestal
of Cleopatra's needle
on Victoria embankment,
near the Golden Jubilee bridge.
( Oh! I am miserable!
I couldn't stop the debacle)
The poodle's puny misdeed
embarrassed not just me,
but the whole city of Westminster,
as fire alarm rang out loud,
when an overzealous constable
gave a distress signal.
It brought the fire chief himself,
who came rushing to meet
the emergency situation,
thinking the poodle was trying
to put out a fire erupted
on the ancient monument,
once shipped to England,
overcoming great adversities,
from Africa, long back.

Your eyes scream apologies

and not even you know what for,

you took my hand,

we left the room,

and i fell in love with you again.

shine your light my way,
and the winds will dance
with us on their strings,
we are the earths puppets,
we'll spin again.

I never want to leave your side
but my hands are tied,
my hands are tied,
your heart screams blind.

You don't love me anymore.