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Feb 16 · 261
The girl is my girl
The girl is a girl
Only like the moon to earth
The oasis to dunes
Breeze to the tropics
Love to the desolate
Warmth to the shadows
music to the lost
path to the journeyman
Fingers to the hair
Lips to the want
All of this and some more
The girl is my girl...
Feb 1 · 166
Feels just like her
‪That warmth in the lights, ‬
‪up in a distant home, ‬
‪far from icy winds‬
‪slaking a winter howl...‬

‪...it feels just like her‬
‪walking into a heart,‬
‪which knew only cold, ‬
and making it a home.‬
Dec 2018 · 252
The fingers...
‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.
Oct 2018 · 1.1k
The woman with a past
A woman with a past, she’s forever making peace with it
Its pages written when the years were raging and wild
mellowed by time, they nurse pain in brittle folds
when I try to turn them, she breaks into tales untold.

Her heart is stone cold and yet she knows of love
How? she doesn’t know. How? I can’t begin to tell
She gives her all to me and retreats behind the stage,
when I press rewind, she slips into the act to cover-up her ache.

She tells me she wasn’t looking, and in her made-up now
she built a life whole and knit a yarn of awesomeness
I broke the many mirrors that mirrored her insta smile
She cowered and hugged me to escape her own guile

You don’t know my past, she tells with mock belief
I remind her we are both travellers having come this far
Our journeys writ on milestones dotting many a stay
We’re interesting stories we picked and lived on the way

She doubts the past won’t measure up to my idea of love
The night, I tell her, doesn’t care what you did with mornings
It just wants you to lose yourself, moor you to its dock
make it whole again, and stop looking at the clock.
Is past a curse or a collection of experiences? It’s like a chasm full of pebbles, each pebble a story, telling of a journey unique and interesting.
Sep 2018 · 668
The idea of you
What can I hold of you?

Of a fleeing cloud ‬
making good its escape ‬
‪from its wanton lodgings ‬
‪in the sea looking to empty itself  ‬
‪and in the sky seeking closure ‬

‪Of a lightning cowering‬
‪in its fleeting existence‬
‪waiting to be consoled and told, ‬
‪it’s magically alive‬
‪as a sliver of hope in the dark ‬

‪Of the bountiful waves ‬
‪retreating every time ‬
‪with a handful of sand,‬
‪clutching on to the earth ‬
‪it has made a promise of return‬

‪Of the godly Sun ‬
‪drowning in the horizon ‬
‪every day in a Spartan death‬
‪to see the moon rise ‬
‪and bask in its borrowed love‬

‪Of a cursed fate ‬
‪mooring me to the abyss‬
‪refusing to unchain me, ‬
‪to feel what it is to sail in waters ‬
‪which treasure the idea of you‬

‪What do I hold of you?
Sep 2018 · 2.1k
Consumed
She's this insatiable urge
gaining on me,
like a herd of horses
galloping in the treachery of the wild,
their muscles brushed to a shine
rippling down their calves
to embrace the ground
beneath their ironed hooves
shaking it up, tormenting its calm,
whipping up tremors
that know no chains and travel far.

When she's around
dust and sweat break free
with muscles aching in symphony
the heart is all worked up
like a boiler room in heat
pummeling all of its adrenaline
in one fleeting indulgence
which the universe with all its hatcheries
is itching to contain
before the raging tides in
and floods my world.

She's the elusive horizon
used to passionate chases
and the sly azure lunging at it
for one sweet glimpse of the cleavage where it conjoins with the earth
looking for Elysium that never is.
Ah! But that is what it is
for the tamed to think of love
is an impossibility
for it grows in the wild
separated by a hundred chasms
and a million mazes
waiting for a fool to cross over.

When she isn't around
the rumpled sheets tell our story
for it has seen the storms
that raged in the cavernous nights
and filled up balmy noons
with the savagery of love
still crackling like embers of fire
which have seen better days,
and, light up still, with a death wish
to tell of our smouldering lives
that thrived in spasms of our last breath.
Sep 2018 · 257
I give my word & song
If any little word of mine
may make some heart the lighter,
If any simple song of mine
may make some life the brighter,
God, let me speak that little word
and take my bit of singing.
Then plant it in some desolate vale
to keep the echoes ringing...
Sep 2018 · 14.2k
Her, her everywhere
Her thoughts and I,
we stay awake
waiting for someone,
hoping for somethings
for the heart in pain
needs no tending
just a pinch of the divine
and that silver lining.

I think of the moments
we gently stole
from the curious eyes
of tired souls
our driving the distance
to escape our own
and finding the universe
in our palms, unfold.

There in the coffee shop
she stares at me
from the helpless tea bag
in scalding water.
In the bottle she would get
to quench her thirst
I find her asking if
my need's greater than hers.

The empty seat of car,
in front
is taken in her absence
by her memories warm
The gear shaft
without our fingers twined
is stripped bare
of our naked thoughts

The rains when they come,
they flood my heart
for a stormy noon
is still parked within
when the highway was lost
behind a sheet of rain
and in lights all turned on,
our tongues were mating.

Her breath is all over
this gluttony of a glass
half filled with wine,
half consumed by need
Now, the dam opens,
blood rising to the lips
flooding me with her thoughts
she can never read...
Where do you find love?
In the absence of your love...
Aug 2018 · 5.3k
The sound of love
Like a clockwork's rhyme
they grow on him,
the soft moan of her heels.
Here she comes, they tell him
as they gently pry loose
of her tender feet.

A quiver is set into motion
like strings of a cello
consumed by touch
every time her voice breaks free
like a fugitive
from its own abode.

The visiting breeze crosses by
the slow hum
of her breathing,
and carries the gasps
in hurried echoes
to remind him she's checked in.

A mischief rolled into smile
escapes her lips
to touch a heart so shy,
only to leave it
and **** with pain
while making it a willing alibi.
Is there a sound to love? Does love come with jingles in the background. Or, do you find it in chores when love shores up within and thy love is without...
Aug 2018 · 461
Crying in the rain
Am crying, crying, crying in the rain...

Waiting a long wait that never seems to end
am living a lie which spawns over and over again
fighting the unease in the middle of my friends
Nowhere to go, I am crying, crying in the rain

Holding out my hand for her to hold it again
making up for the cold nibbling here and everywhere
to see the feeble flame leap at the wind to remain
my eyes find faith and start crying in the rain

The sunsets and the sunrise, how do they suffer
This dying every day for a chance to live again
Me and her every night, we break our chains
only to go our ways leaving me crying, crying in the rain

I wreck myself everytime our paths cross
She too shall be hurt, I know this in my pain
Our fences are down and trouble's coming like a train
My mind is want and aches, my heart is also slain

I am crying, crying, crying in the rain...
We look for love and envy people who have found theirs. What happens when you find the right person at the wrong time? When you meet only to part ways. To live and to die every day for a shot at life again!
Aug 2018 · 441
Can I hold your hand?
When it's taken, a leap of faith,
and, when heart's been robbed of its chime,
When behind the lids eyes take shelter,
and things make no more sense to the mind
When a walk by his side brings the universe to her
and life until now is a wasted errand
All this churning, welling up and heaving
just to feel his touch and hold his hand...
How do you ask your love can I hold your hand? Once.
Jul 2018 · 5.1k
The mountain and the brook
The clouds he welcomed,
and let them play
While the sun descended
to kiss his rugged make

The winds would rage
yet come to him
as a petted bovine
tamed at whim

Like a ***** giant
stood the mountain tall,
in brooding silence
as he towered above all

Then the rains came, and
brought a stranger home
She was none like them
yet she seemed their own

In her winding bends
the mountain heard
the frenzied beats
of a heart so stirred

As the brook looked up
and the mountain down
she found calm
and him, storms found

The clouds he asked
how he could move
and mustered his will
for a measure of stoop

She looked at him
with a drowning feel
clutching at her banks
and digging in her heels

The bend showed up
like an eternal curse
carrying the aching brook
like a solemn hearse

One last time
she looked back at thee
the one she killed
in setting free
A moment shared in love can be enough for a lifetime.
May 2017 · 559
Company
She sits by the banks of my slaving heart
tossing hair and teasing the breeze,
while my tender achings gather course
through her fingers, like a winding stream...

She tells, then she laughs a hearty one
yet my envy finds her company good.
Her husky voice worms into my head
like a desire awaken in unending loop...

She opens the door and in a rush,
the hinges turn loose on my guarded longings
As I piece together my dark remains,
in she walks and makes my mornings.
Oct 2016 · 951
The waiting...
Have I been waiting too long?
The sun has settled and the wind calmed,
the brow of rainbow is fading and happiness is a distant song
Have I been waiting too long...

The breezy chime of a loving heart
lies buried in a clockwork lie,
Oh! the last time I felt a happy tug,  
I was tucked in sleep and woke up torn
Have I been waiting too long...

They fall and I pick up, pieces of myself;
this game, I have played all along.
So far have I come and yet not arrived
Is it for me to stop and turn around?
Have I been waiting too long?
May 2016 · 1.5k
love
He was the wind, raging and all
until he rushed into love
And then he just drifted, calm and loose
like a leaf whose time had come...

She was a wildflower, rooted firm
until she was caressed by love,
then envy crept in and made home,
And she stood there stripped of her petals
May 2016 · 1.6k
That drowning feeling
Every time your eyes
shore up on my face,
looking to anchor
or maybe just steer away,
I choke on
Flooding emotions
And drown
in a wretched hope.

#ShortStory
Apr 2016 · 658
Tears: Here they come
Here they come
rolling and warm,
fresh from a spring of pain
welling up
without warning, without guise
along the banks of tired eyes
waiting and wailing,
drinking in its course
of the inevitable
before the wild fall rushes in,
then impatient and carefree
like a rivulet it runs
along the parched contours
of a lifeless expanse
mating with the lips
burning with desire and laden with salt
to pry open the wound
that woke up a bleeding cry
trapped inside a scarred soul
waiting for redemption
This is a short story mapping the painful sojourn of a  tear drop from its resting place in the eye to the lips where it tastes of the pain feeding it...
Apr 2016 · 3.4k
The flute
From beyond the clouds,
cavalier and unattached,
sneaking past the yawn of temple bell
woken up from sleep,
trespasses a doomed note
pitched like flight of a falcon
fresh from its swoop on prey,
strumming on the discord in a lonely heart,
stoking once more
the hunger and anger of
an eternal yearning...

...Ah! My ears. They pick up the cruel flute. Here it comes, to ladle my pain. Not again. Not again.

— The End —