There are different ways in which i sip my tea
the one that dwells inside my chest speaking of you,
your eyes are my favourite perfume,
a rivetting hiccup that soothes my freckles.
My tea speaks of you in ways indefinite.
The body is incoherent, beating loudly to sit beneath your ailments,
your feverish toe that curls my belly.
Where do you travel during nights?
Like a poem dissolving into the sheets of soil,
amidst the wild sky
where i sniff the patch of cold winter,
you only you can do things to me what the earth does to sky.
The trees have begun to dream again
of embroidered romance and things beyond
of goddess and intinate corridors.
Of lust & prayers.
We lick each other like palpitating cotton candies
then close into our scuped veins
levitating in the air,
We become full into a phenomenal clous of moans.
In transmission lines,
I suddenly become aware,
nocturnal hiss of bed sheets of sounds.