My toes are itchy.

You are not like

The moon
Is like you

Seasons turn
Within the shift of your bones

You turn in your sleep
An ancient world emerges

In the dream scapes
I build castles alone

I am just a fleeting feeling
Let me pass you by

We never held on to life tightly
Why should we now try

I have been the night
You welcome like a new wave

Now I want to be
Hungrily separate

Now I want to die
Barren and desolate

Now I want my emptiness to repeat
And Tessellate

Now I want to simply
Run
The
Fuck
Away.

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The art of not fucking.

I love to sleep
                The sleep of love
                               With you.

Love makes us
Drowsy

Our smaller hands
        Smaller bodies

Night rushes
Into the arms of my lover
                 The back of her mind
                  The length of her spine

Rhythm of slight movements
Drunk on red wine

Love blooms
In sucking scars
Of each others bodies

Softening the harshness
Under the covers

Alternate longings
Half belongings

Exchanging
The art of fucking
For
The art of
Sensual longing.

Occurrence.

Have you ever met someone who makes you feel like you have just woken up to life?
That person could be bruised in the oddest of ways but for you their bruises hold no value. For you, all that matters is the intensity of your chance encounter of discovering them. You carefully, take each step. You want to explore them like a traveller explores a new city..but its different..its different because even though you are a traveller navigating your way through strange lands trying to find a balance between loneliness and a sense of connection..you somehow feel like this person has been your home all along.
No wonder they say
That souls don’t just meet.
Souls remember. Souls connect.
And sooner or later
The red threads between the two points start pulling them closer.

Time is a precious gift.
Moments are made in an instant.

I have found a home. I have found my moment.
One with a roof made of love.
One that’s gentle and pleasant in its roots.

Lunatics

Past midnight
as we lay on our respective beds
Separated by space and time

United by fate and rhyme

Our voices
Were still getting use to the sounds
Of your laughter
Stuck in wind chimes

Suddenly for you
The pillow felt like a lap

Suddenly
I was put on the map.

We made love-smoothies
That tasted like a lunar eclipse

We raced our way to heaven
On your subtle silence, I tripped.

Now it feels..
And that’s a sign

That our feelings
Were
Meant
To
Entwine.

Love in the Era of Confusion

I am excited to announce that an anthology about love is out on amazon for sale and it contains a short story written by me. Titled ‘Silence is innovation’ . Its been a feely process. Filled with anxiety, anticipation, cold feet and utter self doubts. In the end, I am just glad and grateful to be a part of it. Here is the link to it incase  you would like to read it 🙂

http://www.amazon.in/Love-Era-Confusion-Anthology-stories/dp/B00OHNF09C/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1413307284&sr=1-1

loveconfusion

Dreamscapes and me.

I am a sigh breaking into you. I escape from you in the form of distant thoughts. But you tell me a different story. You confess your longing for my words.

I kiss you while you’re wrapped up in the blanket made of oceanic waves. Reflecting moonlight. Turning purple.

Let me know the depths of this geometrical pattern that we form as our bodies dance in half sleepy cuddles. I will undo the way universe has planned our lives.

I will touch you until
My touch
Is the only feeling you can remember.

In every life.

These nights I spend away make me feel like a restless tree caught in a restless wind, moving quite restlessly.

We Bloom.

What she thinks
When she sinks
Into the skins
Of her lovers

What she discovers

When she looks
The other way

A tree with orange birds
An orange bird with blue and green colours

I see her in black and white
Sometimes

In purple
In yellow

In every rhyme

Sometimes

I am that lover

Sometimes
I discover

What no one has
No one will ever.