perhaps i got caught between your silk fingers,
gently throwing the vomit away,
petals of lips brushing away,
swaying like thunders.
perhaps, i slipped into you
before spring could collapse on my belly,
time sticks too many collection.
i am bloodlust,
caffeine on the stove, incensed.
expanding like perforated sky
only to melt like never before.
a stretch of copper sky,
hips full of smoke & nostalgia.
perhaps i loved you way too much.
give me a moment erupting like shreds of golden mirror,
honey dripped touch,
mouths swallowing a sweet lie of ours.
something like that, but real.
for all i remember the morning was obscure,
misty and dewy,
almost like a suicide.
he stood flowing, hopping from city to city
with mirrors broken,
a kiss forgotten.
i drew a circle that day to keep myself safe,
i always do that.
a circle with mangroves, swamps.
fingers / traipsing my mollusc body.
i had a fever.
cold and shaky like a shadow.
i wanted to perch on the footsteps you walked in.
it was that simple,
hallucinating your white-blue shirt.
oh the smell we created like chemicals.
a cadence you left still shines like the moon.
i keep it in the almirah i created,
a circle : of all the beginning.
I sit and fall like meteors.
and i capture your emblematic threads of wilderness.
a point of my sustenance.
my poem published on the rye whiskey review
i can slurp stars out from the sky
garnishing your surreal body,
where my lips stick to your moist words.
A refined way of picking your name.
Coltish your patterns give me jolts, often.
you have mirror- mosaic eye,
one’s that make your body numb.
A piquant chisel touch, maybe.
A lampshade residing beneath our bedsheet,
capturing our love,
observing our total madness.
we decide our own insane galaxy, love
between the lampshade of lips and my porcelain lips
i carry your honeycombed shadow
like a lust covered body, screaming in rose love
i have a reason to lick your face,
your breaths in ways flickering
Beneath the mole of my chin, a night rests
it slithers a square black fit
like an earthquake, an earthquake
Metaphors of sun and moon lies
in my womb,
my place of sanity
inside me choking with your love
a surreal slip of owls & hunters
clambering unearthed lilies
You are blue.
You are grey.
You are colourless.
i have a reason or two to bite
your pages, the books of love
Phantom protrusion of amnesia.
Pills of intoxication
Bay of Bengal splashing my bosom
drop by drop, with chills neurotic
A wasp breaths and moans
slitting a thread.
I have my reasons, darling
to love you.
Ambrosia twirls like a cocktail
thick mouth swarming of dreams,
filling the cracks,
the walls, the ceilings, the mouth
the feverish body.
I have a thousand reasons darling
to love you now.
i have seen the ombre of your lips and words
like mirrors protruding a new leaf,
like a vintage walnut is hidden under my pillow,
your kiss under my pillow, for memories are my skin.
i have known you all these years
as the shadow of the moon, tingling my dreams,
making me nocturnal often,
your breeze like the nostalgia of lights.
and your mushy hands of solace.
pause and dance, dance and breathe.
i see you as morning dew
as a charm cascading as red as a blush
around my waist, around my milky thighs.
extending til my toes.
your breaths are my home.
I see you like an eye of perfume if any.
your skin is a lumberjack
my fingers pricking the whims of your touch,
a vacant room suspended on my white skin,
a chair of your voice,
screaming, aesthetic nerves of the saliva.
i enter your body like a prayer,
again and again with hand-picked chants.
like butter on bare body,
cold sheets of absent air
sitting on my nostrils like a forgotten star,
love fills the places of vacant walls,
and veins dissolving.
love does that all.
(if my title does not do the justice to the poetry, pardon me)
This evening is a slender fireplace
burning my wet loss of losing you
a loss is a numb attack until felt
and so i see hums, bells sliding between
out cheese skins,
mellow at the bottom, i am a dream of a lavender,
matchsticks burning curtains of you,
you meltdown from the Alps, and my garden
towards a barefoot blue whisper.
A crescent moon born beneath the sway of pulp thighs
Grapevines, nocturnal in hushed nights
observing our warm apple breaths,
floral segments onto our clothes-
my white skirt and your black pants
I burn in such fields of coherence,
cleaving affection as my second, language-
Oh man, your arms of white clay
waning thunders of a white moon
so soft and musical,
unveiling a lantern of fireflies.
And then I make a sketchbook of you
amidst the pale pink flowers,
your name embossed like a manor of bees.
There under the branches of hardened leaves
between the sordid naphthalene balls of kiss
I found you, like a fallen star.
Things return like autumn,
with leaves, shades and colours
as your mountain essence
stick to my collar-bone,
in the moments
of nights, haze, dawn.
One by one,
I circle around
and soaked in your fingers
and memories of the return,
this mahogany burns,
it burns as a bay leaf
in segments and silvery parts
I fall into parts,
your demure pasture of lightnings,
your mushy belly button
your mouth of Jasmine
We made love
to grow old together
to be a single fallen star,
we made love for your return
where I am picked and loved,
like a frozen pea,
in your hand.
And, I wait here
for your return
all like a wool,
Fixation to occur.
I have a craving tonight
for a slice of sun
or moon- talks, in runs.
to decipher the poultices
hidden beneath and above,
somewhere between your lips
& paradise,i have a craving
for your love
as soft as petals of Petunia
a craving to count you
& your terminals,
your folds of skin.
i have a craving to
melt into you,
with skins kissing.
a craving to burn pan cakes
and smudge the edges against us
like a paper ball dancing,
to put my mouth on your tongue,
to suck your scars
& to incubate it with my
end of #NaPoWriMo.
in the folds of time,
a soft music exists
humming your songs,
tunes and a black river-
with a piece of forgotten fingers,
what not -
in your maps of the tongue
& wild bridges,
like nothing existed